A Race Through the Night
by Subterraneangem
Summary: Confidence shattered, loyalties abandoned -Nightracer's on the List and she's running for her life. Living under the shadow of a legend, she struggles to separate herself from her past. Along the way she builds an unlikely band of stragglers, misfits, and outcasts. Apart, they're untrusted, scared and abandoned; by all counts, not the best of company. But together, they're family.
1. Prologue

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Prologue**

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.**

 **Huge thanks to my beta reader and beloved sister enmused!**

 **Okay, so this is my first fic that is totally mine, so tell me what you all think! I've had this plot hound nagging at me since I introduced her very briefly in a few flashbacks in my other story-in-progress Duty and Deceit. Also, Nightracer is _not_ an OC, she's just not focused on in anything major. Check her out on the tfwiki if you like. Enjoy this little teaser, and tell me what you think!**

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"For Pit's sake, femme, you're just a clone! What do you care about right and wrong or Primus and the Well? Just shoot the rig like the weapon you are!"

She cringed, her frame trembling with fear and anger, her two sniper rifles locked on to the pile of concealed explosives far, far in the valley in front of her. Younglings and sparklings played cheerfully together, their vastly different designs distinguishing between Decepticon and Autobot children, yet they didn't care. They all played like there was no war, no factions, and no hate and prejudice.

Those children were a picture perfect display of the peace Cybertronians were capable of having.

And here she was, standing here atop a mountain, looking down the barrels of two rifles with orders to ignite enough explosives to blow the last of the Youngling Sectors to kingdom come. Yesterday, her world was shattered. Today she had orders to shatter theirs.

But she couldn't do that. They were younglings! They had done nothing to deserve this atrocity, and she refused to have a part in it. Maybe it was true. Maybe she really wasn't supposed to exist. Maybe she really was just a fake, a molded, programmed clone, spawned to be a weapon of destruction for the Decepticon cause.

If that was truly the case, they should have never given her a spark, because right now her spark was telling her that this was wrong.

"Specialist Nightracer! I'm not getting any younger here, fire the shot or get out of my way!"

She turned to glare at Bludgeon, her frame trembling at the prospect of what she was doing and how she would be punished. She would probably end up on the List for this. Though from what she'd heard, she wouldn't live to know if she did or not.

"I-I refuse, sir." She said, her voice small and wavering.

The mech's optics narrowed, his tone dangerous, "What did you say, clone?"

She shuttered her optics for a moment and took a shaky breath, repeating herself a little louder, pointing her guns at the general. "I-I said, I refuse, sir. I may be a fake, a copy, a _mistake_ , but I do know one thing for certain."

"And what would that be?" He sneered at her.

She clenched her jaw, flicking her rifle nervously, "This is wrong. And if I have to kill you to stop this, I- I will."

The green and maroon mech laughed, his disturbingly skeletal face catching the light in a way that made her quake in fear. "Do your worst, sniper, but I don't think you've got the guts to off me up close and personal."

He pulled out his long sword and grinned wickedly at her, beckoning her forward. She muted a whine of her engine. What had she just done? Now she was going to die, and the Youngling Sectors would be destroyed anyway. She cocked her helm to the side, playing up her already very-present fear to seem as though she'd changed her mind.

"I-I'm sorry, General Bludgeon, sir..." She squeaked out, "I-I'll fire the shot right away sir."

"Figured as much. Weak, predictable, and quite convenient." She waited for the mech to relax and straighten, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug smirk as she turned back towards the Youngling Sectors where the children were still playing, completely oblivious to the argument on the mountains. "Well, go on then. Fire."

"Yes sir."

She raised her twin rifles and took aim at what she estimated to be the right height, then whirled around and fired five times in rapid succession, each shot hitting its mark before Bludgeon could even react. The mech's optics were wide and smoking, his mouth hanging agape in shock. The already graying general looked down unseeing at the three smoldering, leaking holes in his spark chamber. Coolant, fluids, and life-En gushed from his optics, mouth, and chest.

The femme stood there, frozen for a moment as she watched the mech gurgle and writhe before at last going still and gray in a growing pool of his own life fluids. Her twin rifles still smoked from firing the blasts.

And then she ran like the Pits had broken open.


	2. Invisible Walls

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Invisible Walls**

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 **AN. Okay, so I said this story would be a bi-weekly thing - or at least I meant to say so... But hey, who am I to ignore the nagging of the voices in my head? They simply refused to be quiet in there, so here is the first chapter! Read, enjoy, fav, follow, and review! Your input really does boost my writer's motivation.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers, I own only my OCs and my plot.**

 **Huge thanks to my beloved sister and beta, enmused. Seriously, her stuff is amazing, go check it out!**

 **And, so you all know - no spoilers - there is a person in this chapter who speaks in solid italics. For the best effect, read everything this person says at top speed.**

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Her last hiding place had been nice. Really nice. Nicer than normal. She'd been there for nearly an orn and a half. She'd had Energon every day for the first time in far too long, and she'd even had a decent-paying job. Granted the Energon was over-processed low-grade, and basically her only pay was a roof over her helm, but considering how the war was going, she was going to call that pretty amazingly decent.

She jogged to a halt, leaning heavily against the grimy, steel alley walls, trying to get her frame cooled down a little. The rain burned on her armor, slowly eating away at her protoform beneath the gaps that her armor couldn't protect. Already the acid had been busily attacking her armor, leaving her paint patchy and mottled. The sniper's red optics, wide with fear, scanned her surroundings wildly. Nowhere to hide!

"Quit panicking!" She hissed to herself, her spark beating faster in its casing as she heard the dreaded pedefalls approaching again.

Her helm slammed back against the wall as she stared up into the sky in despair. There was nowhere to hide and she wasn't sure how much longer she could run. No matter where she ran, or how well she hid, they always found her.

Half a vorn she'd been running.

Was there even any point in running away? Whether she ran or not, they would catch her eventually. She'd been running for what seemed like a life-time. Her friends had probably been told that she'd gone with one of the escapee ships to start a neutral colony far away from the War.

Coolant started to spill down the gray battle mask she wore for no other real reason than that she'd had it for as long as she could remember. With the painful reminder of part of why she was running to start with, the femme snapped the mask down, not meaning for it to have gone up in the first place. If only she had gone with the neutrals. If only. But fate wasn't to be so kind to her.

She looked over her shoulder with tear-blurred optics, a short whine rising from her engine as she started running again, whispering desperately, "Primus, help me!"

Of course, she knew that the ancient being at the core of their planet could do little to help her, but maybe, just maybe, as the source of all life he could keep her alive. She wasn't ready for the Well yet.

Her pedes felt like lead as she forced herself to go on, her frame long since past mere exhaustion. Laser-fire shot by her, narrowly missing her helm, making the femme bend down as she ran, her transformation cog having been damaged nearly a quartex ago, making it impossible for her to transform.

"C'mon, femme!" One of her pursuers sang, "We only want to _play_..."

Another hot blast of weapons fire brazed her side, pushing a gasp of pain from her vocalizer as she staggered on, not daring to glance behind her for fear of who she might see. Life-En, coolant, and acid rain flowed over her frame in a strangely beautiful mess of blue, pink, and red. Actually, she was probably just about to pass out, and when she woke up the first thing she'd see would be the inside of a cell. Or a torture chamber.

 _If_ she woke up.

She swung around another corner, skidding a couple feet over the wet roads before regaining her balance enough to stumble on, her vision obscured by the myriad warnings from her HUD. Up ahead she saw the abandoned shell of the warehouse Megatron had ordered destroyed nearly three vorns ago.

Maybe she could hide there.

At the very least it would get her out of the corrosive rain. She put on a burst of speed, her destination being the only thing on her mind. Half a block away, the femme let out a muffled scream as all of a sudden there was a mech right behind her, wrapping her arms behind her in his grip and clamping a firm hand over her mouth, ducking into what looked like a solid wall.

She struggled against the grip of her new assailant kicking and biting and pulling away from him as much as she could, her vents heaving sporadically as terror started to wipe out all rational thought. She'd managed to stay free for so much longer than she'd ever hoped; she couldn't let them catch her now!

Three breems passed and at last the femme went limp in her captor's grasp, giving in to the despairing thoughts that told her that there was no point in resisting. She'd always believed in destiny - or she thought she did. But that could have been a lie too. She just hadn't ever thought that she was destined to die like this. As a captured fugitive who wasn't even supposed to exist.

Another three breems passed and the light blue mech let go of her. Scrabbling away from the mech the astro-second she was free, the sniper backed herself straight into a corner, letting out a frightened squeak as she felt the cool metal wall against her dorsal plates. Coolant welled up in her ruby optics and she whispered almost inaudibly, "Primus, help me, I don't want to die..."

The blue mech was in front of her in less than and astrosecond, pacing back and forth so fast she could barely keep her optics on him, rambling, " _Nonononono, don't cry femme, please don't cry..."_ He ran a hand over his helm in an annoyed and stressed gesture, " _Scrap, I don't know how to deal with anyone crying, much less crying Decepticon femmes! Who're you running from, why are they chasing you? Please stop crying I just saved your life, so I don't know why you're crying anyway, but I'm not gonna hurt you I promise. Just- stop crying, for goodness' sakes, I can't deal with this!_ "

She blinked, her processors struggling to keep up with how fast the mech was talking. Finally he stopped long enough for her to actually look at him. The first thing she noticed had her pressing herself deeper into the corner, her ruby optics widening a fraction further as they landed on the red insignia planted on his chest. She whimpered, shuttering her optics and biting her lip hard.

Autobot.

Now she knew she was going to die.

" _Oh sweet Cybertron, she's a Con. You just rescued a Con from other Cons who're trying to kill her."_ He rolled his optics _, "_ _ **Brilliant**_ _... but that makes no sense unless she's made Megs mad, which means she's dangerous and oh slag she's probably gonna kill me. Only that doesn't make sense either, cause why would she be crying and trembling in the corner if she wanted to kill me? Oh! She's leaking: she's hurt, I need a medic, but I'm stuck here on this_ _ **Con-infested**_ _dying planet all on my own, cause Optimus and Ratchet and Magnus and Wheelie and- and_ _ **everyone**_ _'s gone, so it's just me and a leaky, crying femme and I don't know what to do!_ " The mech said all in less than a klick, taking a deep vent and opening his mouth again, " _Why oh why oh why didn't they wait for me, or le-_ "

"Shut up!" She screamed, holding her aching helm in her hands and sliding down to curl up in a ball in the corner the pacing blue Autobot had trapped her in, purposefully or not. She whined softly.

Fate hated her.

It hated her because she wasn't supposed to exist. She was a mistake.

" _Oh sorry sorry sorry, I'm rambling aren't I? I do that when I'm nervous, I just talk faster and faster and faster until everyone around me just wants me to shut up, cause unless they scream at me I just keep talking and_ -"

"Stop!" She moaned, pleading, "Just stop talking... please..."

" _Sorry, shutting up now, totally shutting up_ -" The blue mech cut himself off and forced his blurry pacing to stop. He sat down beside her and hugged his knees to his chest. " _Sorry_."

In spite of herself, the teal and charcoal femme smiled, lifting her helm enough to glance up at the Autobot beside her who seemed to live at lightspeed. The way he sat there quietly without moving looked almost painful.

The mech seemed nice enough, but it was most likely a facade. Decepticons killed Autobots. Autobots killed Decepticons. That was just how it was. At this point though, she wasn't so sure that dying would be so bad. An Autobot blowing her helm off her shoulders would definitely kinder than what _they_ would do to her when they caught her.

She leaned her helm back against the wall and sighed deeply. "So... Is this is the part where you kill me?"

That being said, she wasn't very keen on being 'one with the Allspark' just yet. She wasn't entirely sure why though. The Well frightened her now. Especially now. She wasn't even sure she would go there. But that was a thought line to follow up later.

She shuddered. This mech was playing the nice guy, but he would off her just when she was least expecting it.

" _ **Kill**_ _you?_ " The mech repeated incredulously, shaking his helm vigorously enough that the odd spike that swept back along the top his helm whistled as it cut through the air, " _No, I'm not gonna kill a crying, trembling, scared femme right after saving your life, how dumb would that be? Why would you expect me to do something so mean? Who were those guys chasing you anyway? Who are you, what'd you do to make them wanna kill you?_ "

She sighed again, looking around her curiously. This was no ordinary building that the high-speed mech had pulled her into. It wasn't even a building. That must be why she didn't notice it. This was a space-ship. Unfortunately, it seemed to be in a poor state of repair.

"Is this your ship?" The Decepticon sniper asked, deliberately ignoring the mech's questioning.

" _Yes- I mean no- I mean yeah, I guess it's mine now cause no one else knows about it cause it's got a fully functional cloaking-device."_ The blue mech scowled, _"Not that anything else is fully functional, otherwise I would have jetted out of here with all the other Autobots... who sort of left me here for dead._ " The mech frowned, his lip plates pulling on a bitter smirk, his tone going surprisingly sour, " _I don't need them anyway, it's not like they cared enough to notice when I wasn't with them. They were probably glad to be rid of me, cause they're all_ _ **slow**_ _."_

" _But you never answered my question. My name's Blurr, cause I'm super super fast and I do everything super super fast, faster than a Cybertronic race horse, if there was such a thing as a Cybertronic race horse that could run faster than the speed of sound, but you probably already know that, cause I'm really famous, cause I'm the fastest Cybertronian alive and have the medals to prove it."_ The mech - Blurr - said smugly, his whole chassis puffing up with pride, _"So I'm Blurr, who are you?"_

She supposed it wouldn't really hurt much at this point to tell the mech. It wasn't as though she could really give an informative answer in any case. If she was going to die soon anyway, she might as well have a decent conversation first. Even if this guy didn't kill her, her pursuers would find her eventually.

"That's just the thing." The femme whispered, "I'm not sure I know."

"Oh."

She looked up in curiosity at the single whispered word. Blurr's silence didn't last long though, " _But that makes no sense, everyone knows who they are! It's not like you don't_ _ **have**_ _a name, cause that would be absurd, cause everyone has a name, or at least a designation of some sort."_

"Not necessarily," The sniper gave an empty laugh, "But you can call me Nightracer."

" _Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa, you're Nightracer? Like the super-awesome living-legend sniper?_ " Blurr suddenly looked incredibly wary of her, and as he got more excited he - she hadn't thought it was possible - started talking even faster than he was already, " _Like-the-one-who-took-out-whole-armies-with-no-backup-of-any-sort? Like the Nightracer-I-should-be-thanking-Primus-I'm-still-alive-to-be-talking-to?_ "

She looked down at her gold twin sniper rifles, each of which were equipped with self-restoring power cells that were physically impossible to drain. She sighed. Hearing this reaction from mechs and femmes, Autobot, Decepticon, and neutral alike was getting _really_ old. Because she could only ever give the same, self-depreciating reply.

"No..." She sighed again, "Just the copy."

"Oh." The mech said quietly, soon shrugging and continuing unphased, " _Who're you running from though? Why are they chasing you?_ "

Nightracer stood up abruptly, hissing as the motion jarred her injured side and arm. Her whole frame burned from the acid still sitting on her armor and under her plating. She dusted off her hands and began examining the flat sheet of metal where she knew there was a door. Yet she could see no evidence of a door, just a perfectly flat Cybertonium wall.

"How do you get out of here, Autobot?" She asked briskly, brushing off his questions again. That was not a topic she felt like breaching with a stranger. Definitely not an enemy stranger who was still most likely planning on killing her or turning her in.

The mech leapt to his pedes and zipped over to her, making her jump in fright as the blue mech seemed to materialize at her shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest with a determined frown. " _Nope nope nope nope nope. You're still a Con, and I'm not telling till you tell me who's after you and why_."

The teal and charcoal sniper scowled, stepping away from the mech who was vibrating beside her, charging the particles in the air. "So I'm your prisoner here."

" _I kinda'd rather refer to it as a sort of enforced asylum for your own well-being, but I s'pose if you wanna look at it like that you could._ " He shrugged indifferently, _"Just sayin' calling it an enforced asylum is_ _ **way**_ _more optimistic in my opinion. And when you're being chased by En-thirsty mad-mechs optimism is probably a really nice thing to try and keep up, rather than just focusing on the whole about-to-die-a-painful-death-thing. But-"_

Blurr flashed away for a moment, leaving her to stand there staring blankly at the space he had just occupied, until he reappeared and shoved a cube of Energon in her hand before disappearing again, calling over his trail of blurry after images, "- _I brought you some Energon and_ -"

"- _some high-grade if you drink and_ -" She blinked as a smaller cube of highgrade appeared in her other hand. Shortly after the two different Energon cubes were joined by a microfibre cloth, a polishing cloth, universal color-enhancing cleanser fluid, and a first aid kit. "- _some cleaning supplies and some doohickeys for your wounds and if you want to take a shower, the wash-racks are down the hall two lefts and a right or maybe two_."

The blue Autobot stood beaming and vibrating in front of her, waiting for her to react in some way. She wobbled slightly under the pile of supplies the mech had dumped in her arms, shifting in a futile attempt to balance the pile.

"Um... I don't drink..." She muttered finally, dazed at the hospitality she was being shown. She was a Con, she was a hunted fugitive, and she wasn't even supposed to exist. He should be trying to kill her, not giving her a bigger meal than she'd seen for vorns, with hard-to-come-by highgrade and enough cleaning supplies to bathe an army.

" _Duh of course you don't drink, what was I thinking?_ " Blurr laughed, taking the highgrade from her hand and nearly toppling her armful of stuff as he ran back to wherever he'd gotten it from, hollering, " _I don't drink either, I just thought, you know, you're a Con, and the stuff was in here when I found the ship, so I figured what-the-Pit maybe she'll drink it for me_."

She stared after the mech before shaking her helm and running a location scan. It came up with no results. The sniper frowned and tried a different scan, also coming up with nothing. The ship's walls must have some form of frequency reflecting materials integrated into the metal.

Nightracer shuttered her optics and took a deep breath, trying to get her muddled processors straightened out. She must have tripped while she was running and hit her helm. She was unconscious and dreaming. That explained everything.

The femme dumped the load on the floor in front of her with a crash of shattering glass, making her hiss as shards of the cube cut into her feet. Why her dreams thought it necessary to make everything from glass shards to laser wounds hurt so much was beyond her. She frowned. If she was dreaming, then all she had to do was find some way to wake herself up.

Blurr returned just in time to see her slap herself in the face with vicious force, making the running mech skid to a screeching halt to stare at her like she'd gone insane. She yelped at the self-inflicted pain before growling and kicking the pile of cleaning supplies halfway across the room in frustration.

" _Uh... You alright? That looked like it really hurt a lot, why'd you slap yourself like that?_ "

She groaned loudly, rubbing the side of her face. Ignoring the mech, she mumbled, "Okay, so I'm not dreaming apparently. If I'm not unconscious, maybe I've just gone crazy. Not the best case scenario, but it could be worse." She started pacing thoughtfully, "Don't know why I had to hallucinate a hyper-fast-forwarded weirdo Autobot in an invisible spaceship with no doors..."

 _"Hey that's offensive! I just saved your life and all the thanks you can give me is calling me a hallucinated weirdo Autobot?_ " He jumped in front of her abruptly and snapped his fingers in her face, " _I'm not fake, I'm right here in front of you and if you don't like it, you can just get off my ship and let those freaks outside kill you if you'd rather, but I refuse to be insulted out of house and home_!"

"Be better than your constant babbling on and on." She retorted sharply, "Washracks are down the hall, two lefts and a right, hallucination?"

Blurr glared at her in annoyance before nodding and zooming off down one of the halls, then a moment later he came back and shot down the next corridor and the next. At long last, when the mech had probably been to every room on the ship, he came back and crossed his arms huffily.

 _"I'm not a stupid hallucination_!" His foot blurred as he tapped it rapidly in impatience, " _Leave if you want then; the door's open now, I don't even know you, so it's not like I care if you wanna go die out there all alone in the acid rain. But if not, feel free to look around cause every where you're allowed to be is open, everything else is gonna be locked. If you want me just run around the ship shouting my name and I'll come around eventually. Good cycle Con."_

She stared at the light and dark blue after images for a klick before emitting a distressed moan, trying to keep the coolant from spilling from her unusually large red optics. Sighing heavily, the femme started tip-toeing down the hall the mech had indicated, constantly glancing around in paranoia.

A bot tended to be more than a little paranoid when they'd been running from who she was running from for half a vorn. Especially when every time she stayed put too long, she got to see her fate enacted on those around her while she ran like the fake she was.

Half a vorn of evading a team of walking torture-devices with the knowledge and continual reminder of everything that she could never be had worn on her. On her self-esteem, on her will to go on, on her patience. She'd shot her loyalties to oblivion when she'd killed her supervising officer. Two sniper bullets in the helm and three in the spark.

She hadn't wanted to kill him. That hadn't been her plan. Her plan was to simply shoot his pedes out of under him so she could run free. But her programming had had different plans apparently, because when the smoke had cleared, Bludgeon was leaking out of five well-placed holes in his chassis. Her lip-plates trembled as she really let herself think about everything that had happened.

"I didn't want to kill him!" She shrieked into the empty corridor, her vents shaking as she cried against her will, "I never asked for any of this!"

The teal and charcoal sniper collapsed to her knees just outside the washracks, sobbing with no restraint. Her hands balled up into fists as she glared at her knees, repeating brokenly, "I never asked for any of this."

At long last she rose, her coolant supply dried up. Her frame was still trembling and her balance was unsteady. But sitting on the floor in a strange ship alone while the acid slowly ate away at her protoform was not going to change anything. She clenched her jaw resolutely. She never asked for any of this, but that didn't change the fact that she was here.

She was alone in this world, living under the shadow of a femme whose life had long since faded into myth and legend. She was alone, she was guilty, and she was hunted. But she was not going to sit around, waiting to rust in her own coolant. She never asked to live, but she sure as the Allspark wasn't going to ask to die either.


	3. Enforced Asylum

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 2**

 **"Enforced Asylum"**

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 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers.**

 **Huge thanks to my amazing sister and beta, enmused!**

 **Anything spoken by Blurr will be in italics and best read at high speed.**

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Clasping on the last piece of her shoulder armor - a shield over her upper arm that consisted of one of her alt-mode's doors - Nightracer shivered, shooting a peevish glare at the mercury spout. In spite of the trials of her life, cold washing had still managed to maintain a surprisingly high rank on her list of things she hated.

The teal and charcoal femme left the washracks and stepped out into the empty, pale blue walls.

The silence seemed nearly tangible. She was alone. Fate deems that she meet someone - the first person really - that was actually genuinely nice to her. Kind without hidden motives of some sort or other. No secret agendas.

And how did she react?

She shoved him away - rudely - refusing to accept that he was even real. Of course, given her history and her former alliances, it was no shock to her that the speedster's hospitality had confused her.

Nightracer looked around in curiosity before spinning on her heel and heading off in a random direction. She ran her hand along the smooth ship walls as she went about her aimless exploration. So far, she hadn't seen a single door. A couple breems later, she still failed to locate a door.

According to her chronometer, it was the middle of the second night cycle. All she really wanted right now was to find a berth to recharge on. She didn't actually feel like exploring the whole entire ship with its elusively invisible doors. Yet here she was.

The washracks' door had been left wide open; apparently the only reason she'd been able to locate it. Blurr needn't have concerned himself with locking the doors. The sniper laughed quietly. Locked or not, she couldn't even _find_ the doors on this messed up ship, much less _open_ them.

The femme jolted in surprised fear, a groan of metal echoed through the ship, followed by a series of crashes that seemed to come from above her. And below her. Nightracer bit her lip, "B-Blurr?"

She peeked her helm around a sharp corner before stepping around the bend cautiously, her armor tightening around her frame. She moved slowly and quietly along, working extra hard to keep her pede-falls silent in the echoing halls.

"Blurr, is that you?" The femme called again, her voice wavering faintly.

What if they had found her again? Already? For all she knew, the next corner she turned would reveal the magenta mech with the abysmally void black optics ready to charge the life from her. Or any one of them, really.

At some point in time, she had started running. It had become a sort of state of being for her. Her acid-mottled pedes pumped beneath her, her every step jarring the injuries that she'd only been able to fix on the surface. The laser burns on her arm where her other door had been blown off and her burnt side would heal gradually on their own, as would the damage caused by rain. Her t-cog however, would require a little more invasive attention before her self-repair nanites would be able to do anything even remotely of use.

Which left her running, lost and aimless through an unfamiliar, invisible Autobot ship.

Eventually, if she lived long enough and was allowed to stay long enough, she would have to tell the light and dark blue speedster who she was running from. And then he would evict her like everyone else she had sought shelter with. Because everyone knew that she was a dead mech. Everyone also knew that anyone that protected her, or stayed too long in her company, would be just as dead as she would be.

The ship's eerie creaking and moaning continued, seeming to grow louder as she ran. She could hear pedefalls rapidly approaching her from behind as she swung around corners faster and faster, still trailing her servos over the walls. They were beginning to ache and she glanced down at the them only to find that she'd worn through the acid-burned remains of the thin armor on her servos and was now beginning to leak life-En from her servo-tips.

Yanking her hand away from the wall, where she'd left a smeared trail of life-En leading her pursuer straight to her, Nightracer whimpered and ran faster. She was right. They'd found her.

"Scrap..." She hissed desperately, swinging left down yet another corridor. The pedefalls didn't even hesitate as they followed her. They weren't gaining on her... yet.

They'd found her again, like they always did, and she couldn't even find a door to hide behind.

Coolant was beginning to stream from her optics as despair gripped her spark. The irony of her life never failed to amaze her. Well, mostly just leave her quaking in a continual state of terror as of late. Trapped in what was promised to be an 'asylum': a safe haven, she was going to be butchered for not pulling the trigger on a sparklings' establishment.

She hoped Blurr had gotten away and run like he'd seen Unicron himself. Honestly though, she had doubts that even Unicron could be worse than who she was running from.

Swinging around a corner too late, and slamming into what felt like a wall, the femme screamed as said wall spun away with the impact. The mobile wall collided with her dorsal plating with a crash as it flung her onto her face into a dark chamber. Dazed and terrified, Nightracer struggled to refill her forcefully emptied vents, her spark pounding heavily.

After about a klick, she pushed herself up onto her elbow and looked around with wide optics. The dimly lit room had the same silvery blue walls, but they were engraved with sprawling glyphs and plastered with images of racing posters, news pages, and awards. One wall was dedicated to shelves of gold, cyberrylium, cybertonium, and obsidian trophies. Against the other wall was a large berth with a soft violet light shining down on the berth's occupant.

The berth's occupant that was currently staring down at the intruder sprawled on the floor in front of his door, crying and dripping life-En from the servos of her left hand.

Nightracer squeaked and sat up, scooting back against the wall where there had been a door moments ago. Her engine let out a pitiful whine as the femme pressed her trembling self against the invisible door.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to come in here and wake you up!" She blurted out with a sob as her pedes scratched against the floor in a desperate attempt to get farther away from the mech, in spite of the wall behind the sleek hood of her alt-mode perched on her back. "Please, I don't care what you do to me; just don't make me go back out there! Please! They've found me, they'll kill me if you make me go back out there... Please..."

Her sobs wracking her frame, Nightracer just shut her optics and whimpered, shaking her helm and curling up into a ball, waiting for the mech to shout at her and push her outside to her death. Better her than them. It was a rational assessment with a rational solution.

 _"Uh, there's no one else on this ship, I just checked for life signs and there weren't any, so I have no idea who or what you're talking about."_ Blurr said, his rapid speech still making her processor lock up momentarily as it struggled to keep up. He held out a hand to help her up, giving her a reassuring smile, _"Look, I get that you're stressed out, but I promised not to hurt you and I'm a mech of my word, and besides that, if I wanted to hurt you do you seriously think I wouldn't have done it by now?"_

"B-but they'll kill you too-!" She moaned, holding her own hand to keep herself from reaching out to the mech. Everyone had an agenda. She just didn't know what his was yet, and she couldn't afford to trust. Trusting people only ever hurt her and everyone else involved.

Blurr straightened and ran a hand over the top of his winged helm, pacing in a quick circle groaning, _"Scrap, this femme cries so much... I'm a messenger, a racer, not some... some Con-consoler!"_

After that he crouched beside her and awkwardly patted her back as she sobbed in his arms, hiding her helm in his chest-plates. A comically bewildered and uncertain grimace plastered on his sharp, fine features, the blue Autobot mumbling sarcastically with a hint of resignation, _"Sure, whatever, I'll just give you a hug then while you stain my freshly polished chassis with your coolant. Cause that's totally what one normally does with bawling fugitives when they burst into your quarters in the middle of the night babbling about nameless, invisible pursuers."_

She took several deep vents, willing herself to calm down before pulling away from the Autobot to wrap her arms around her middle. Worrying her lower lip with her sharp fangs, Nightracer whispered, "... Sorry..."

 _"How long have you been running away from these people you're so scared of? And when's the last time you got a full night's recharge?"_ Blurr questioned, looking over her trembling self briefly, his deep blue optics showing mild concern behind the suspicious expression he held.

Her large ruby optics roamed the dim berth room in search of the enemies she knew were here, replying distractedly, "... Half-vorn running... Maybe an orn? ... Or two? Not sure..."

The mech was quiet for a klick before he wiped her tears away with a soft polishing cloth; he took her injured hand in his and examined it carefully before taking off the worn servo-armor. With quick, not quite track-able movements, he wrapped each of her servos in a light mesh, his touch gentle in spite of the blurry speed with which he worked.

 _"There's nothing to worry about, Nightracer, just relax. The ship is empty. There's no one on board, hostile or otherwise - well except for us obviously."_

Blurr clicked the mostly useless blue servo-armor back on her hands to hold the mesh in place, reaching up to wipe the new coolant stains from her face. She noticed that at some point - probably as soon as she'd stopped crying on him - the mech had polished the coolant off of his own chassis already.

"H-how do you know?" Nightracer asked tremulously, her spark pulse just now beginning to regulate.

 _"Because I just ran through every single room on this whole ship, just so that I could say so and you actually believe me and stop crying all over everything."_ There was a smile on his face, and his tone was kind, leading her to smile back at him faintly. He was plainly still peeved about being woken, but she could tell that he wanted her to know he wasn't mad at her.

The teal, blue, and gray femme turned her gaze past her elbow sheepishly. "Sorry."

 _"Would you quit apologizing for every single teeny little thing that you do?"_ Blurr blurted exasperatedly, appearing in front of her in a flash, making her flinch away in surprise. She really needed to get used to the mech materializing right in front of her. _"It makes me feel like some big scary monster that's scaring the living spark out of you, which makes feel like an awful Autobot."_

His face drew on a slightly desperate expression as coolant started to roll down her face again, his hands hastily swiping at the tears with the polishing cloth. _"I'm not gonna hurt you, I already told you that, and I'm not mad at you either, I just want you to stop crying, please, cause I haven't got a clue what do with crying bots."_

"If there isn't anyone here, what was I running from?" Nightracer asked quietly, her wide optics staring deep into his.

Blurr laughed, his rich tenor clearer and smoother than any Decepticon laugh she'd heard. It was kinder and... genuine. _"This ship is really echo-y and gets sort of spooky at night when you're on your own; you probably just heard your own footsteps and panicked and started running, making the echoes louder and louder."_ He averted his gaze to stare back at his reflection in the mirror on his wall. _"Trust me, I've been here a while. It's easy to let it mess with your processors."_

After a brief moment of contemplative silence, the blue mech shook his helm roughly. Standing up, holding his hand out again and smiling down at her, he said, _"Anyway, if you really haven't had a good night's recharge, you need to let yourself rest up. C'mon I'll show you to one of the other berth rooms for you to crash in, 'cause I really don't think locking you in the brig is necessary, do you? Didn't think so, 'cause obviously no one_ _ **likes**_ _to be caged up, so you can have a room instead. And I'm no medic, but I sort of know a little tiny bit from experience and observation, so tomorrow I can see if I can do something about your busted t-cog, 'kay?"_

Nightracer nodded slowly, her optics pleading, "C-can... can I-"

She looked away. She was so pathetic. Why couldn't she be strong, like the legend she was supposed to be a copy of? She rubbed her arms, hugging herself tightly, starting again at the mech's expectant, querying gaze. "Can I s-stay here?"

"J-Just for tonight!" She added quickly, desperately, the empty silence of the rest of the ship and the thought of having to sit alone in it for at least another two joors terrifying her already shaken spark. "I'll stay right here, and I swear I won't make noise... just- please d-don't leave me alone out there..."

Vexation, incredulity, confusion, distrust, and finally resignation flashed across his faceplates faster than she could track before the mech quirked his optic ridge up briefly, sighing, _"Sure, cause why not, right? It's perfectly safe and normal to let a potentially dangerous Decepticon with legendary assassination skills spend the night in your quarters."_

Blurr snorted, gesturing wildly at her with one hand as he argued with himself, _"Oh, sure, of course, cause you can really say no to those abnormally huge, pitifully pleading optics. I mean seriously, look at those optics! They're worse than a hungry turbo-pup! ... Or, or a scraplet!"_

He peeled his lips back at her awkwardly in what was likely supposed to be a smile, but was more of a gruesome grimace, his optics shifty, as though he'd just been caught doing something horribly embarrassing. _"Ehh... yeah, no, I was totally not just talking to myself just then, cause that would be stupid, right? Yeah."_ His already far-too-fast speech tripled in speed as he got himself flustered, chuckling nervously, _"Anyway-sure-whatever-you-can-stay-here if-you-really-really-want-to so-yeah-good-bye-good-night-whatever..."_

Blurr sighed, turning his back to her and holding his servo up, declaring, _"You know what? I'm just gonna shut up now. Yeah. Shut up while I'm still ahead. Or before I'm dead of humiliation, or whatever."_

When the femme didn't respond, he glanced back over his shoulder to find the worn-out sniper already deep in recharge where she sat propped against his door, her helm tilted slightly to the side. A small, relaxed smile rested on her lips, her chassis rising and falling with the soft vents of sleep.

He sighed again, smirking faintly as he carefully scooped the femme up in his arms - taking care not to wake the exhausted Decepticon femme. Blurr deposited her gently on his berth, making sure she was as comfortable as he could make her. Moving to the end of his now-occupied berth and seating himself on the cold floor, the Autobot speedster leaned his helm up against the foot of the berth.

Not long after he'd gotten himself situated, Blurr too slipped into a light recharge.

* * *

 **Thank-you all for your continued reading, reviewing, and support! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did, and I can't wait to hear what you all are thinking about this story!**


	4. Monsters

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Monsters**

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 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers.**

 **A huge thanks to all my beloved readers, and most of all to my dear reviewers, whose input gives me joy and authorial inspiration. Also, huge thanks to my amazing sister/beta enmused.**

 **Remember, for best effect, read everything Blurr says at high speed. Enjoy!**

* * *

Her optics came online and the femme sat up groggily, reaching her arms together over helm and stretching her struts lazily. Taking in a huge draft of air, she frowned, looking around with wary and confused optics.

She was on a berth. A nicer berth than she'd slept on for quartex. A berth that she very much didn't recall falling asleep in.

The room she was in was still just as dark as when she'd been lulled to sleep by the friendly rambling of the mech. His words had failed to process after a certain point of exhaustion. So the question was, where was Blurr and why was she on his berth?

The sniper crawled over the expanse of the berth to look over its edge curiously, her still recharge-fuzzy processors not mentioning the absurdity of looking for an Autobot under the bed. Which went to explain her mild shock when the mech was actually there, slumped against the end of the bed in what couldn't possibly be a comfortable position, with his winged helm resting on his chest

A twinge of guilt went through her as she stared at the handsome Autobot recharging on the floor. He shouldn't have given up his own berth for her; she'd been sleeping on floors and in corners for half a vorn, one more night wouldn't have hurt.

After about a klick, at which point her processors were functioning more normally, Nightracer fell backwards on the berth with a start as she recalled that it was most likely considered rude to stare at people while they recharged.

She scooted herself back against the headboard of the berth with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her tanks gave a disgruntled rumble, making the femme pull her pedes tighter to her chest in a vain attempt to muffle the loud complaints of her empty fuel tanks. She craned her neck upward to try and see if the light blue mech had been woken.

Thankfully not.

Nightracer swung her pedes off the edge of the berth and glanced around awkwardly, chewing on her lip. This was so weird. It was like being the first awake when she and the other Con femmes had a sleep-over. Only even more awkward, considering she wasn't really welcome here.

She tip-toed over to where she knew the door was supposed to be and ran her hands over the smooth silvery-blue wall in search of seams that she knew she wouldn't be able to find. She'd been flung into the room by inadvertently running into the door. So maybe if she just pushed on it?

The femme reached out a servo and tentatively poked the wall, feeling incredibly foolish. She laid her whole hand on it and pushed a bit harder, still bringing no fruit. She leaned her shoulder into the cool metal and shoved as hard as she could. To no avail.

"Stupid ship." She growled quietly, trying again.

 _"Good morning, having difficulties shoving the wall down, 'Race?"_

She jumped in shock, straightening stiffly, shuttering her optics and venting deeply at both the mech's awaking and at the nickname. Nightracer turned around slowly, her tone flat, "I'm nowhere near the door, am I."

Blurr just grinned and shook his helm, getting to his pedes and standing in front of her with two full cubes of Energon in the blink of an optic, startling her yet again. _"Here you go, your tanks' rumbling woke me up a lil' bit ago, so I figured you could probably use some fuel. Also, the door's actually three steps to your right, in case you were wondering, cause you're gonna find opening the wall right there to be kinda problematic. Just saying."_

Receiving the proferred Energon with a smirk and an annoyed look, Nightracer refused to grace him with a reply to that, simply moving three steps to her right and turning to glare at the wall. She sipped at her cube and ran two servos - the uninjured ones - along the cool surface, resuming her search for some sign of a door.

The invisible door thing was going to drive her mad if she couldn't figure it out. Not to mention how damaging to her self-esteem it was to be too dumb to find a _door_ of all things. Not exactly what would normally be classed as rocket science.

 _"You want me to open the door for you, cause I could do that if you wanted."_ Blurr shrugged, sipping at his own Energon from where he was now leaning casually against the wall, his feet kicked forward and his ankles crossed, his whole posture relaxed and trusting as he watched her scrutinize the wall, _"I mean, I can leave you to try to glare holes through the reinforced cybertanium too, if you're more the independent type."_

Flipping back the mask that had slid forward without her knowledge, Nightracer ignored the mech for nearly a breem, passing him her empty cube without even looking at him as she crouched down to continue her investigation. After another three breems of Blurr just standing watching her with an amused smirk, his arms crossed over his chest as he propped himself up on the wall.

At long last, the sniper got up and glared at the smug mech, even though her lips just kept smiling, "Fine, you win. Open the door."

 _"I thought you'd never ask, I mean you seemed so content to just pet the door, glowering like Magnus when he's happy."_ The speedster held up a servo to catch her attention before zipping around, picking her up by her shoulders and setting her to the side like one would a turbo-pup that had sat down in the way, _"Now, watch and learn!"_

She blinked at being so suddenly displaced before returning her focus to the door. Blurr snapped his servos once, causing the wall to shift and warp briefly before the wide door was visible, then he simply pushed against the side of the door, spinning it around until it closed again with him on the other side. A moment later as the door kept spinning, the blue mech was back in the room, grinning like a sparkling.

 _"I know, right? The doors are sound-locked_ _ **and**_ _they're spinny, how cool is that? C'mon, tell me that's the awesomest thing ever."_ He flashed around the door a couple more times at full speed, before stopping again, _"See? I even did it in slow motion the first time, just so you could see how utterly awesome my ship is. I've been wanting to show it off to someone for quartex, ever since I found it after everyone left. Try it!"_

Nightracer cocked an optic ridge, a dryly amused smile on her lips. "Just how long has it been since you've had contact with other people?"

 _"Uh, let's see, couple quartex?"_ Blurr muttered finally, his servos twitching in a nervous blur, _"You can tell can't you? Cause you're a Con and I'm a weirdo and I'm treating you as though we haven't been fighting a massive civil war, slaughtering each other brutally and mercilessly for six millenia."_

She laughed and warily spun through the door, her trust of the revolving door somewhat tainted by the door having winded her and left her on the floor last time she went through it. The femme let out a triumphant giggle when she got through unharmed. She'd never been fond of revolving doors. Especially the automatic ones in the citadel, that turn constantly, just a bit too fast for comfort.

"So... exploration time?" She asked hesitantly, pulling on her servos absently.

He grinned at her and nodded, speeding out of his quarters, the spin of the door washing her in cool air. She pushed through to the other side and smiled at the mech, one of the first to ever just show her kindness. Not because she was a trained assassin with legendary skill in her very CNA and coding, or for any other twisted reason. He was just genuinely nice.

 _"Okay, so I was thinking about it and you're still wounded from whoever it was that's chasing you - I'm not nagging about that, even though the curiosity's going to drive me mad, see me not nagging? - so the first stop on our exploring of the ship is going to be the med-bay so I can see what I can do about that t-cog."_ Blurr explained rapidly, practically dragging her behind him as he sped along with his hand around her wrist.

"Blurr."

 _"Cause, seventeen-time-winner-of-the-Ibex-Cup and all, I at least understand t-cogs, cause they tend to get strained in the races. Watched a lot of mechs burn out in my wake, not that I'm complaining, cause you know, all the more trophies on my shelves..."_

"Blurr."

 _"Oh! Did you get a chance to look at all my trophies? My favorite is the one from my fifth race, it's faceted cyberrylium with an obsidian base and it actually has a genuine Praxian crystal in it from the famous Crystal Gardens before they got air-striked!"_

"Blurr!" She shouted finally, her wrist and feet starting to hurt from how fast the speedster was tugging her along.

The blue mech let go of her wrist as if burned, skidding to a halt at last and giving her a quizzical frown, _"What's the matter? Am I boring you, yeah I'm probably boring, cause who wants to listen to a famous - extremely famous, I might add - guy talk about his glorious life of fame al-"_

Nightracer held up a hand and doubled over, venting hard for a moment, clutching her side where her injuries and damaged t-cog were protesting to the strain. "Gotta... slow. Down."

 _"Oh! Oh yeah, duh, you're not a speedster like I am which must make for an awfully awful existance, living through life so_ _ **slowly**_ _, but-"_ He frowned, cocking his helm at her and staring at her frame under her hand, _"Oh. You can't go so fast because you're injured and already spent all night running so your systems are over-taxed and can't handle the stress, so now you're leaking all over again and it's all my fault!"_

She pulled her hand away from her side and stared blankly at the life-En coating it. Her self-diagnostics said it was just newly formed protoform that had been stretched to rupturing by the over-exertion of the night. Nothing serious, just... Just... The femme blinked at the lost train of thought, swaying slightly on her pedes.

"It's okay..." She muttered, smiling lopsidedly, her mask twitching spasmodically half-way between up and down. "Just stretched protoform. And life-En. But it's okay."

 _"It's not okay, you're leaking out all over my ship under my watch and it's my fault, so I feel like utter slag, which makes it not okay at all!"_ Blurr exclaimed, looking rather annoyed at her complacency. _"You shouldn't even be walking, I need to get you fixed up."_

As she stared at the life-En on her hand, the image of Bludgeon on his knees staring at his fading his spark with blown out optics, life-En pouring from his optics and mouth flashed into her mind. Nightracer let out a choked gasp, cringing away and stumbling back right as the blue mech reached out to support her shaky frame.

She'd done so well to keep her thoughts at bay for the past half vorn, but her former commander's death was an image seared into her processors. This was the first time since she'd killed him and ran that she'd had time enough to allow things to sink in. The first time that she'd not been so pre-occupied by her survival and safety to think.

It was easier when she didn't have time to think.

"You shouldn't even _care_!" She shrieked at the concerned Autobot, "I'm a murderer! A _monster_!"

 _"Whoa, whoa, whoa... hey, look, you don't seem like a monster to me, just a scared, lost femme who's been forced to do horrible things by horrible bots. That makes them the monsters, not you. And besides, monster or no, you need medical help, and helping bots is what I do, because I'm an Autobot."_ Blurr said firmly, his tone leaving no room for further debate. _"Honestly, I don't care if you_ _ **are**_ _a monster, I am_ _ **not**_ _, so you're going to get fixed whether you like it or not."_

She looked down, pressing her armor down submissively, allowing him to lead her - at her pace - to the ship's medical bay. Once she was laid out on the surgical table neither said much as Blurr raced through the med-bay at a speed her optics could barely register, giving her various orders as he performed what basic repairs he knew.

At his dictating, she removed a portion of her stomach-plating for Blurr to run scans over her damaged t-cog. After several klicks, he simply welded the protoform back together and had her replace the armor.

 _"Okay, so like I said, I know a bit about t-cogs, but I thought you'd just overheated it or something, but it's taken direct weapon's fire, so it's actually ruptured, so it needs completely replaced and..."_ He gave her an apologetic grimace, _"I have no idea how to do that. But on the up side, at least I've got all of the rest of your injuries in working order. So yay!"_

"Yay." She repeated unenthusiastically, sitting up and gazing at her hands with an unreadable expression.

She watched the blue mech flit around through the med-bay putting things back where he'd found them and then arbitrarily rearranging shelves and cupboards. Soon he started rearranging all the berths and work stations as well.

People had died because of her. Both by her hand and not. She had been fighting this war for long enough that it shouldn't have bothered her like it did now. Back in the Kaon citadel, she'd been able to laugh it off with her other femme friends. Or at least pretend to, just like they did; just like everyone in this messed up murder-fest of a war did. But this time it was different. This time it had been up close.

Bludgeon had been right. It was far easier when she was terminating specks on the horizon. The distance made it all that easier to forget that those specks were bots. Bots with lives, and jobs, and friends, and family that loved them. That were praying for their safe return.

She was a monster.

It was what she was created to be. Created, programmed, honed, and trained for the sole purpose of terminating the targets set in her sights. She was a Decepticon sniper; that was what she had always been and always would be. Her predecessor had enjoyed it. It was her passion. A passion that was now locked into every fiber of her being.

Because she was just a fake. A copy of a legend.

After less than a breem, Nightracer was fairly certain that there wasn't a single thing left where it had been. Not even the berth she was seated on had been spared from his mad reorganizing spree. Finally the mech sat down on the opposite end of the berth she was on, fidgeting for half an astrosecond, leaping up and straightening a utensil and sitting back down again.

 _"Sorry."_

"I don't want to." She whispered decisively, still staring at her acid-burned servos.

The mech gave her a puzzled look, cocking his winged helm to the side curiously. It was plain enough that he had not tracked her train of thought. _"Don't want to what? Be in working order? That ma-"_

"No-"

 _"Don't want to be a Decepticon? Cause I'm sure with a lot of work and permission and rules and paperwork and vorns and-"_

"No-"

 _"Don't want to-"_ His clear azure optics locked onto hers and he stopped. _"Actually, you're right, I'm just gonna stop talking and let you explain what you're talking about because I could sit here interrupting and guessing until we rust and-"_ He cut himself off again, glaring down in the direction of his mouth as though it were at fault for his talking, _"Right, sorry, not talking."_

The sniper smiled weakly at the quirky Autobot before finishing softly, "A monster. I don't want to be a monster. I am one; that is my function. But I don't want to be."

Blurr didn't say anything for a bit, leaving the two of them in a thoughtful silence as they sat on opposite ends of the surgeon's table in the empty ship's med-bay, staring at their laps lost in their minds.

Finally the blue mech gave her a pitying smile before changing the subject. _"So if you want to now that you're not leaking everywhere, we can finish showing you around the base?"_

She stood up and brushed off some metal dust from her frame, taking in a deep vent to push aside her unpleasant thoughts, "I could use the diversion."

He nodded and shot off down the hall. A couple klicks later he swung back into the doorway with a sheepish grin, _"Whoops. Slowing down, sorry."_

The teal and gray femme grinned back, still not quite feeling it as she walked along side the blue mech, her tone sarcastic, "No, don't worry about it. It must be so hard for such a fast mech like you to walk at the pace of a handicapped Con."

 _"Ugh, you wouldn't believe how hard it is. Not that I'm saying you're slow, or handicapped-!"_ He added defensively, _"But being me is so hard, cause most people don't even bother listening to me most of the time, and when they do, they're horrible at it, and just trying to get them to keep up is nigh on impossible!"_

Nightracer rolled her crimson optics. "Hey, at least you're the first bot to be you."

 _"Yeah, but what good is that if no one knows who_ _ **me**_ _is? And I don't mean my reputation, cause everyone knows that, cause I'm awesomely famous and everything, but-"_ Blurr suddenly seemed to remember the reason for their exploring and pointed a thumb at the door they'd just passed, _"That there was the medical stock cargo hold by the way, and this room here..."_ He swung the next door open and let her peek in briefly, _"Is the quarantine room. Lots of shiny round things all over the wall. No clue what those are for though. I didn't wanna push the lever to find out, just in case it made the whole room blow up or something."_

She cocked her helm at the odd structures in question for a moment before shrugging and continuing their tour. She whispered, too quietly for the mech to hear, "At least _you_ know who the real you is."

Apparently all she really knew about who she was had come from a history book and her own self-doubting spark. But that was why she was running to start with, and things were a whole lot less complicated if she just kept running from those thoughts.

 _"-And then a hot pink, sparkly Magnus walked in with the ugliest scowl I've_ _ **ever**_ _seen on his face... I swear he kept the twins locked up in the brig for a quartex!"_ Blurr snickered at the memory, sending her a snapshot of the pranked commander, glancing down at her as she laughed so hard her vents seized up.

Once she'd gotten ahold of herself enough to recognize where they were, just down the hall a few doors from Blurr's quarters, Nightracer filled in the last part of the mental map she'd been sketching in her mind with a satisfied nod. "So where will I be assigned to live out my 'enforced asylum'?"

She followed the blue mech up the hall past a few more doors before he stopped at the one next to his own quarters. Smiling down at her, the slightly taller mech gestured hesitantly to the door for her to go in first. He seemed half afraid of what she might find.

Frowning briefly in a suspicion that she couldn't maintain, the femme nervously pushed through the odd rotating door into the room. Every steely blue surface was covered in a thin layer of dust. Against the far wall was an average-sized berth with a simple, unadorned headboard; on either side of the berth were two floor-to-ceiling shelves layered in dust and a few empty high-grade bottles.

A tiny vid-screen was mounted on one wall, cracked and hanging askew. In the opposite corner, right by the door, was a small corner desk with a dusty terminal set up, a small disposal unit, and a couple of rusty datapads were strewn across it haphazardly.

Set off to the side was a modest little enclosure with a small shelf and an Energon dispenser, along with a counter on which to mix the Energon. A cupboard contained a few cleaning tools and a mainenance drone. Sitting on the counter was a half-empty cube of long-since stale Energon with a drowned glitch-mouse in the bottom of it.

As she explored the quarters that were to be hers, her expression was almost non-existent, whereas Blurr, who had followed her in, was obviously appalled. _"I'm sorry, this is miserable, why don't we try another one? Mine weren't half so bad when I first claimed them. I hadn't been in all of the quarters really, I just sorta peeked in the door and then never looked back, but there's no way I'm going to make you live in here, this is disgusting. I had thought that what with the ship being deserted and you being chased by apparently evil, terrifying bots, that it'd be better for your quarters to be nearby, but this is unac-"_

She looked up at the ranting mech, an awed expression on her grinning face, her optics alight with excitement. "I can have this whole room? Just for me?"

 _"Yeah, I guess, I mean sure, but this is- I can get you something bet-"_

Her large optics widened in disbelief as she cut him off hopefully, " _All_ of it?"

Blurr, still looking horribly confused, nodded swiftly, her pleasure at the decrepit room rendering the famous racer speechless. His confusion only increased when she let out an involuntary squeal of delight as she spun around, running around the room, already starting the clean up process.

This was just amazing. This whole room: hers. Just for her. No more dingy alleys, hidden corners, waste disposals. No more pyschopathic, obsessed, En-thirsty femme for a room-mate like she'd had back at home in Kaon. No more waking up to a destroyed berth-room with pieces of life-En covered shrapnel from the last battle one particular Autobot femme had participated in.

A room all to herself, a domain set aside for her alone.

Nightracer grinned even wider than before as she raced through the room multiple times, not really cleaning anything, just staring at it all in glee.

 _"I don't mind seeing you so happy, but-"_ Blurr chuckled in bemusement, _"This place is a total dump... Why- how are you so happy about it? I mean there's dead glitch-mice and rust everywhere, not to mention more dust than I thought even possible on a metal planet."_

"A dump?" The femme exclaimed incredulously, "You call this a dump? Mech, I've been living in waste disposals in the slums of Kaon, Kolkular, and now here in Uraya. Before that, I shared quarters with _Flamewar_."

At his blank, unenlightened expression, Nightracer explained, "Flamewar. Absolutely, medically insane, obsessed with the Autobot Arcee - creepy levels of obsessed. Emotionally volatile, manic, bi-polar, schizophrenic... Pretty much, you name a mental disorder; she's got it. She brings body parts from her kills home and hangs them out to dry in the closet, especially if she claims they 'smell' like Arcee."

 _"Creepy."_

"Yep!" She confirmed cheerily, already making grand plans for this little room that the Autobot was telling her was _hers_. She'd have it clean in no time, maybe rearrange the furniture a bit more to her liking...

It would be perfect. And it would be all hers.

Nightracer grinned widely at the blue mech, flopping herself down on _her_ berth, sending a puff of dust into the air all around her, bringing yet another hilariously distraught, but somehow smiling grimace to the other mech's face.

Maybe this 'enforced asylum' of Blurr's wouldn't be so bad after all.


	5. Settlement

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Settlement**

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 **Hello, beloved readers! Thank you one and all for your continued feedback and support! I live off of your reviews, so keep them coming!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers.**

 **For those of you amazing people currently reading my other story Duty and Deceit, I think you might find it interesting to know that this story is written in the same universe, about the same time as the flashbacks in Duty and Deceit. Then again, I might just be the overzealous author fangirling over Nightracer and Terabyte as I write their separate journeys.**

 **Anywho, enough chatter: on with the chapter!**

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Her lips curled upwards in a moment of disgust as she ran her servos over the dusty counter, looking at the harsh contrast between shiny metal where she'd touched and the thick layer of accumulated filth. She smiled brightly soon after though as she noticed just how shiny the counter was beneath the dust.

All to herself. All of this was hers.

The sleek car-former ran excitedly to the little cupboard of cleaning supplies, flinging the door open with a flourish. Staring at the many tools, Nightracer at last darted in and pulled out the maintenance drone. After a klick's searching for the power button, she activated it with a flick of a switch; jumping back with a quiet giggle when it buzzed to life and seemed to have a minor conniption fit as its simple processors registered the amount of filth everywhere around it.

As the life-less drone began its frenzied vacuuming of the walls and floor, the teal and gray femme twirled back to kitchen-area and scooped up the stale Energon, grinning happily down at the long-dead glitch-mouse floating belly-up in the cube.

Not caring that she was talking to dead vermin, she said confidentially, "You know, this my room now. Which means my rules. And sorry, mech, but rule number one's gonna be no dead things allowed."

Dumping him unceremoniously down the waste chute in the wall between the desk and the kitchen door, Nightracer waved, childishly calling, "So, bye bye, glitchy-mouse!"

She paused for an astrosecond, glancing to her front door to make sure the Autobot had actually left like he'd said he would. She didn't necessarily need the mech to think she was glitched in the helm. Which she supposed was a distinct possibility. Shrugging when she saw no sign of company, the femme twirled around on the tips of her toes, patting the busy drone on the helm as she dodged it to grab a hand vacuum from the closet to begin working on the counters, throwing away high-grade bottles and empty cubes as she went.

 **Two Joors Later**

Nightracer flung herself flat on her back in her berth, laughing triumphantly when the action failed to send a vent-choking cloud of filth into the air. Letting out a tired whoop, the femme tossed her somewhat still-clean polishing rag. Polishing rag number eleven.

"Done!"

She sighed deeply before leaping out of the berth and doing a happy little dance around the cleaning drone that was looking around with an oddly smug expression in its dull, lifeless optics. She smirked at the short drone, "I know. We should be proud of ourselves!"

Deactivating the drone, she shoved it back into the closet with an exaggerated grunt, dusting her hands off with a satisfied huff as she examined the cycle's work. She'd pulled out what few personal effects she'd had in her subspace, a surprising number considering the abrupt circumstances of her departure from Kaon. But having Flamewar for a roommate meant that she held most of her belongings were safely stowed in her subspace in the first place.

Above her berth, she had spread out like a curtain the shimmering woven alloy blanket that Shadowlight and Darkshine had made her a couple vorns ago. On one of the shelves she displayed an abstract twisting, looping glass vase filled with purple, blue, and pink lava swirling around in its intricate prison.

On a different shelf, she'd set up the only two datapads of music she owned: one holding the Kaonic Symphonies, the other holding the Orchestrations of Tarn. Personally, she didn't care much for either set of music, but it was what she had. The Kaonics were a bit too heavy and loud for her tastes, and the Orchestrations were just plain creepy.

Though now that she was being hunted by the mad mech himself, she understood a little better why his compositions were so disturbing.

Thus, she didn't listen to music very much anymore.

But she displayed the two datapads proudly as a part of her small collection of belongings. Over the broken holo-vid screen that she had straightened, the femme had set up a sort of holo-photo-board, depicting the best times she'd had while in Kaon. Pictures of her and the jet-femmes crashed on their sofa, armor gleaming as they laughed over sweet-En; Thunderblast screaming at them as she hung magnetized to the roof of the training arena dripping lime green paint; of the other four femmes dumping a whole bucket of liquid nitrogen over her on her sparking-day after she'd told them it was her favorite confectionary item - such a delicious mess; the group of them after they'd had a paint war in the femmes' wash rack...

Those were the good times. The best vorns of her life. The five of them - herself, Terabyte, Thunderblast, Shadowlight, and Darkshine - they had been a perfect team.

Then Thunderblast got reposted to the front lines by Vos. Shortly after that Darkshine got terminated in an Autobot ambush after a deep infiltration op. Which drove Shadowlight to insanity until Megatron had Bludgeon terminate her too.

As far as she knew, Terabyte still didn't have a clue about what the Decepticons really were, and Skyquake kept everyone away from her with dire threats. The rumors were that he had bonded with her, but Nightracer knew otherwise from the time she spent with the two-wheeler. Of course, since the rumors only served to further keep the tiny femme - far too young to have been pulled into the war - safe, she never felt moved to impart her knowledge.

And now Nightracer herself was on the run for treason and the murder of her CO.

The femme turned away from the happy images with a sorrowful sigh before pushing through her revolving door and making her way to the ship's mess hall. Upon arriving at the mess hall, the sniper found that it was oddly empty, like the rest of the ship. Perhaps Blurr had already had his evening Energon. Or perhaps he had left the ship for some reason or other.

Either way, it really was none of her business what the mech did with himself, she reasoned as she prepared herself a cube of plain Energon. Sitting down at the end of one of the many long tables, the femme quietly sipped at her fuel, afraid to make a sound lest she frighten herself with her own echoes like she had the last time she was alone.

Company would have been nice.

 **Two Rotations Later**

The brush smoothly spread the cool teal paint over the femme's ankle, effectively covering the last of the acid damage and leaving her frame shiny and new again. Nightracer smiled with satisfaction and lazily tucked the contents of her paint kit back into their places and into her subspace.

She stretched with a low purr of her engine, pushing herself off her berth carefully, taking care not to mess up the fresh coat of paint. Her paint was quick dry, but it still took time to cure properly.

Waking up that morning had been heavenly. Her frame hadn't felt so rested and relaxed in vorns. Her struts didn't protest every movement, she didn't have a crazy roommate babbling in the corner about various methods of murder. And there wasn't a team of psychopathic embodiments of torture lurking at the edges of her sensors.

Nightracer smiled again and pushed through her door with a sluggish, contented vent. She'd hardly gotten through the door when a flash of blue greeted her vision, causing her to jump back and slam painfully into the wall in surprise and instinctive fear.

"Blurr!" Spark pounding and vents heaving, the femme leaned her helm back against the wall with a sigh, running her hand over her helm as she glared at the mech vibrating and grinning in front of her. "You have got to stop doing that..."

A secluded portion of her mind reminded her that she would be gone long before that would happen.

 _"I brought breakfast, since I figured you'd probably want some. The scans I did when fixing you showed signs of chronic Energon deprivation or whatever the medical term for that is... Anyway, you'll be able to self-repair a lot better if your body's not in power-saving mode all the time. Didn't you notice how run-down you are? I mean sure Cybertron's dying and Energon is scarce, but does Megs not even keep his soldiers fueled?"_

"Good morning to you too." She mumbled, accepting the proffered Energon and taking a quick sip. She rolled her optics and started following the blue mech who, rather impatiently and incredibly twitchily, was walking at a brisk, but attainable pace. "Of course I noticed. Not much a bot can do when credits are useless and high grade's all that's served half the time. As far as the 'Lord Protector' is concerned, well... I've never felt very much 'protected' by him. Especially not now."

Blurr cocked his helm, glaring at nothing in particular, before suddenly snatching her by her wrist and pulling her around a corner and snapping his servos, pushing through another of the invisi-lock revolving doors. _"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, I wanna show you something."_

She looked around warily at the huge room with odd black walls, cut with a grid of glowing gold lines. According to her mental map, this room hadn't been touched in their previous tour. A small drew her optic ridges together as she guessed at what the room could be for, not paying any heed to the actions of the vibrating Autobot zipping around in the corner of her optics.

The teal and charcoal sniper crouched down to trace a servo over one of the yellow lines that criss-crossed over the floor and ceiling as well as the walls. As she did so, the room around her dissolved in the bat of an optic and the shocked femme found herself standing in the middle of Iacon with swarms of Autobots all around her, pushing past her in a mad rush to their separate destinations, seeming completely unawed by the picture-perfect city around them.

Rainbow bridges with intricate, glowing patterns of circuitry hung aloft in the sky, twisting, turning, and looping over and around each other in a beautiful mess of countless opportunities and possibilities, roaring with the sounds of hundreds of mechs and femmes driving on to their daily routines. Towers of glass and lights stretched up beyond the thin cloud-line as fliers darted through the clear, sunny sky with flourishing sweeps and turns.

The hundreds of bots rushing by her were all grinning, laughing, and teasing with each other. Over there a little lavender femme sold diamond roses while her spark mate snuck copper rounds to the younglings running past. Across the bustling throngs was a modest diner, packed with happy people enjoying their morning fuel.

Nightracer stood frozen stiff, staring all around her at the city with wide optics, her armor pressed into herself as she tried to make herself small enough to be unnoticed. She glanced around wildly; searching for some sign of Blurr to tell her what was going on. The bots around her continued to jostle on by, most of whom were branded with the Autobot insignia; making her wonder how in the world she hadn't been fired on yet, given the purple brand adorning her shoulder-shields.

Just as panic was beginning to set in, her surroundings melted away and she found herself standing in the middle of a dark obsidian forest in the late night cycle.

She shivered at the sharp contrast, her optics scanning her surroundings for friend or foe. Pede-falls, muffled by the mulch of mercury and rust on the ground, pattered right beside her, yet when she whirled there was no one or thing to be seen. Her servos twitched towards her subspaced rifles, but she didn't grab them like instinct told her she should.

Instead, she braced herself to run for her spark as she called out cautiously, "Decepticon? Autobot? ... Blurr?"

 _"Boo!"_ A voice shouted cheerfully from directly behind her, a pair of hands landing on her shoulders.

Nightracer shrieked louder and higher pitched than she'd previously thought physically possible, jumping a good foot off the ground.

Life-En pumping loudly in her audials, the femme held a hand over her rapidly pulsing spark, glaring daggers at the blue Autobot laughing so hard that he was bent over double behind her. His hands on her shoulders were the only thing keeping him from falling over in a fit of uncontrolled giggling.

 _"Oh, that was awesome... Hate me forever, that expression was so worth it!"_ The mech snickered, _"Aww, c'mon lighten up, pretty-Con, you jumped like three feet off the ground, screaming like a sparkling!"_

She vented harshly, turning around to look the mech in the optics, her glare only lessening slightly. Her tone was completely flat, "For half a vorn, I have been hunted by psychotic maniacs who want to torture me to death for refusing to blow the Youngling Sectors to the Well."

Blurr's laughter came to an abrupt end and he visibly deflated, the obsidian forest around them melting back into the original black room cut into a grid by the golden lights with a flick of his wrist. _"Good point... Sorry, I wasn't thinking about- actually I just wasn't thinking... Um, anyway, this is the simulator room; you probably already noticed, but it's hyper-realistic, which makes it really awesome!"_

The femme forced herself to smile faintly, taking a deep vent. Eventually she would have to tell him just exactly who it was she was running from. Or she could just leave before he started asking questions again. But it had only been three rotations since he'd taken her in. Normally she could stay in a place for about an orn before her location was discovered and she had to keep running.

It really was a shame that she would have to leave here.

She had amazing quarters all to herself, enough fuel to keep both her and Blurr in top condition for a vorn, medical care, and training facilities in abundance. If she could only safely stay, this could become home.

Her ruby optics gleamed sadly. Fate never had been on her side.

Not that she blamed it. She was a fake -a fake who was being hunted by the most notorious group of Decepticons in history. Honestly, she woudn't be on her side either if she'd had a choice in the matter.

"How do you control the simulator?" She asked at last, shoving aside her thoughts to distract the blue Autobot's concerned gaze.

 _"Oh!"_ Blurr shot off to the wall beside the door to the room, touching that part of the grid to activate a control panel with a relatively simple menu and selection system. _"Here, see over here we've got a couple dozen saved simulation programs to choose from, just hit 'em to take a look at each one."_

As he spoke, the room shifted through several different scenes in rapid succession as he selected them just long enough to demonstrate.

 _"Then over here there's the dataport where you can plug yourself in and download something directly from your memories, or attach a datapad or whatever to add to the thingy's database."_ He poked at the mentioned port, plugging in his own cord with an excited twinkle in his optics.

The room turned dark, the air filling with the loud sounds of a full stadium: boisterous laughter, cheering, and jeering drowning out the rumble and roar of a chattering audience. She jumped back in fright as a group of alt-modes shot past them at high-speeds, bringing with them the fascinating realization of where he had taken her.

"This is the Ibex Course... On game night." Nightracer breathed, her optics brightening as she watched the race eagerly, sitting down in the front booth. "I wanted to come see this, last time they held it. I was going to go with the other femmes in my sector. We had it all planned out, the twins sponsored the trip by buying everyone front-seat tickets, Terabyte would con her mech-friend into organizing transport, Thunderblast and I would bring sweet-En and snacks..."

 _"So what happened? Cause I always hang out by the front seats after winning the races, and I was here for this race, and there was nothing but mechs in the front seats on that race night."_

She winced, shaking away the reminiscing memories of planning that outing. They'd all been looking forward to it for quartex. She answered bluntly, "Darkshine died on a mission and her twin went glitchy from the spark-pain. Long story short, the rest of us didn't really feel much like going after that."

Her focus returned to the race just in time to watch one mech take a corner too late and skid across the track to crash into the barrier in a brilliant eruption of smoke and flames. "Ooh... Ouch. Too bad too, he was gaining on the first placer."

Beside her, Blurr made a little agreeing noise, seeming fully enthralled by the race where he sat back casually. She leaned forward eagerly, resting her chin on her hands, absently reaching over and grabbing a handful of copper rounds to nibble on. Intent on the game, she didn't question where the copper rounds had magically come from.

Five breems later, the racers were on the final lap and the leader looked like he had a free shot to the finish line. Nightracer was sitting quietly with her wide optics faceted on the racers as suddenly the fourth place racer shot forward with renewed energy, cutting across the finish line in first place at the last moment.

The crowd erupted in mad cheering and shrieks of shocked glee, Nightracer's voice joining in with the others with enthusiasm.

 **One Orn Later**

She sighed boredly where she sat upside down on the rec-room couch, her pedes draped over the back of the sofa while her helm hung over the edge as she stared emptily at the black surface of the giant holovid screen. The remote dropped from her lazy grip as she flung her arms to either side of her limply.

"Ugh." Nightracer moaned, her helm buzzing from her having just watched holovids for seven joors straight.

An empty cube of Energon lay on the floor beside her, along with a stack of datapads she'd found in a box in the corner of the rec-room. Most of them had either been read or deemed too boring to be worth her while. She rolled her helm in circles until she got dizzy and fell ungracefully off the sofa with a reverberating clang.

Untangling herself from the jumbled pile of her own limbs, Nightracer shoved herself to her pedes and glanced briefly over herself to make sure she hadn't messed up the fresh paint job she'd finally given herself a few rotations previous.

Thirteen rotations. A whole orn.

She picked up her empty cube and tossed it clumsily in the general direction of a hibernating maintenance drone, not worrying over the shattered mess as she already could hear the machine whirring as it cleaned it up. Stretching her spinal struts with another bored groan, the sniper pulled out her rifles and twirled them in her hands as she headed off to the simulator room.

A whole orn had passed since she'd last seen Blurr. An orn! How in the galaxy was she supposed to live like this? Alone and left to her own devices on a strange ship with no one to talk to or to keep her occupied. No orders to fulfill, no reports to write, no femme team to hang out with, no mission to go on, no mechs to avoid, no Flamewar to appease, no blue Autobot rambling at light speed about everything he could think of while compulsively tidying everything in reach.

Nothing.

She could just leave. Right now. Her shoulder bolts fell suddenly. Actually, no she couldn't. She didn't know how to open the front door yet. Not that she wanted to leave, really. Not yet. Another couple of rotations wouldn't hurt, right?

"Blurr?" She hollered, not expecting any response. He had said to just run around calling his name if she ever needed anything. But she'd done this yesterday and the rotation before and the rotation before that. "Blluuurrrr! Heee-lllloooo?"

 _Heeelllooo? Heelloo? Hello?_

She growled back at her echoes, only for her growl to be echoed also.

Suddenly an idea popped into her helm and she pitched her golden rifles into her subspace and turned around abruptly, striding with determination towards the security room instead of the training arena.

As she neared up on her destination, she called out, lazily taunting, "Blurr? ... If you've been in there laughing at me slowly dying of sheer boredom, you'll have a rather displeased and malicious Decepticon sniper to deal with!"

She swung into the monitor room, fully expecting to find the blue Autobot sitting there, grinning that bright, happy grin of his. What greeted her instead was an empty room. Just like every other room on this ship. She examined the monitors more closely, cocking her helm with a bored curiosity.

The Autobot had lied about having shown her all the rooms on the ship.

He had failed to mention that there was a massively over-stocked weapons armory, as well as an equally over-stocked cargo bay filled with spare parts, armor, and paints. Whoever had owned this ship previously had been preparing to embark on a very long journey, likely not planning on ever returning to Cybertron.

The final, most intriguing thing that Blurr had failed to mention was the existence of a second launch bay, filled with single-mech Zeta-class battle fighters. She could fly away with one of those whenever she felt like it and nothing would be able to stop her.

With one of those ships, she could make herself disappear. For good.

She could leave Cybertron long behind, leave her pursuers behind, and defend herself against any who stood in her way. Again, except for the minor issue of being unable to operate the ship's exits. Or the fighter, for that matter.

Nightracer smirked anyway, her excitement at the discovery not at all dampened by the knowledge that she couldn't actually leave. As she'd pointed out to herself earlier, she didn't really want to leave anyway. With nothing better to do, the femme started on her way to the launch bay.

Of course, it _would_ be locked.

Meaning it had been a groon before she'd finally pinpointed the exact location of the door. Not that knowing where it was did her very much good. Because the servo snapping to unlock it had only made a glowing green keypad appear. Another half a groon was spent of Nightracer mashing in what felt like hundreds of codes.

Finally, she finished calculating out exactly how many possible glyph combinations there were.

She stared at the result flashing on her HUD, her expression and tone utterly blank, "You have _got_ to be kidding."

43,297,528.

Repeating the calculations again to make sure she hadn't transposed a digit or something, the teal and gray sniper slammed her helm into the door with a defeated moan. The ship mockingly echoed the hollow clang.

 _"You okay, Race? What's the matter, are you sick again? Are you leaking out again? Or dizzy, or low on fuel, or contaminated with Cosmic Rust or-"_

She waved a silencing hand, not moving from where she stood with her helm pressed into the cold, unforgiving door. "Forty-three million. Two hundred and ninety-seven thousand. Five hundred and twenty-eight."

The blue mech's utter confusion was so perfectly complete it was like a tangible weight in the air. Nightracer's lip quirked up in an unnoticeable little smirk. She could practically _feel_ his befuddled blinking as his processors replayed her declaration in his mind.

"Where. Have you. Been?" She demanded at last, turning around to pierce him with her accusatory glare. "Thirteen rotations. A whole _orn_!"

Blurr glanced around shiftily, his shoulders rolling forward guiltily. He chose to skirt her question with a conciliatory, _"I think I might've found someone who can replace your t-cog for you, but we don't have- Okay, so I found someone who can find someone who can fix you, but the mech's a slick'n'sleazy Con of a con artist."_

His words most definitely had the desired effect of distracting her attention from his long-term expedition. Her large ruby optics widened as her processors instantly realized just who he was referring to.

"No! Absolutely not."


	6. Into the Snare

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Into the Snare**

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 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers. Or my fabulous sister/beta enmused.**

 **As usual, Blurr will be talking crazy fast. Also, I'll be moving my update day from Mondays to Fridays (from Sundays to Thursdays if you're in the US) in an attempt to attract some more readers, by posting on a less busy posting day. So yay! All hopes to this scheme of mine working!**

 **Huge thanks to all my readers for your support, and feel free to send me tons of reviews! ... I say feel free, by which I mean, please do! Your feedback really helps me to improve my writing!**

 **Enjoy!**

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"No."

 _"You need this medic and Swindle can get him for you, we just need to pay him what he wants. He just wants-"_

Nightracer cut him off, shaking her helm emphatically, her tone more firmly resolute than she'd ever heard it, "Absolutely not. I refuse to have any part in this. I don't care how much or how little he wants now, because it will never stop at one payment. You get in with Swindle, _you don't get out_. He is a walking financial abyss, and when he's done with you, you'll be dead or in jail."

Blurr gave her a distinctly skeptical glare, _"I really think you're over-reacting, and besides that, you're still technically my prisoner-asylum-dweller-thing so you really don't have any choice in the matter at the end of the cycle. This guy can get you a medic and you need a medic before I'll let you go anywhere. Besides, how bad can it be? He's only asked for two cases of super-charged high-grade which we can easily make - with the right tools, which we should be able to find in one of the old warehouses - to give to him, and then it's a done deal and we forget he even existed."_

She shook her helm again, running her hand over her helm swiftly and leaning against the wall with a stressed ex-vent. He didn't understand. She had watched mechs' and femmes' lives go to the pit because of that despicable excuse for a mech. What was worse, if Blurr got them in with Swindle, the mech had some serious networking amongst the higher ups. He would find out that she was on the List, and he would sell her out to them in a spark beat.

That mech would literally have the power to sell her spark. And frankly, she was terrified.

"No... You don't understand, Autobot." She huffed, her internal cooling fans kicking up a notch as she shuddered, pulling her armor tight against her frame. "He will reel you in and drag me down with you, and then he will _sell me_. You don't understand just how deep in trouble I am, and dealings with Swindle will only end in death."

 _"Sell you? What do you mean sell you? Like you're a mercenary? It isn't like you're property to be bought and sold, I mean Cybertron doesn't have bot-smuggling! That would be absolutely absurd, even the Senate would have stopped that. Why would he want to sell you anyway?"_

" **Because he's Swindle!** " Nightracer roared, clenching her fists to stop them shaking. Though the rattling of her clenched armor kind of made the effort moot.

Sighing deeply, she sagged against the cold wall, allowing herself to slide down to the floor with her helm in her hands. She shuttered her optics, drawing her knees up to her chest so she could hide her face from the world, because she refused to use the mask that would do just that. "I'm sorry, Blurr. It's been a rough orn."

 _"I did leave you a note. By the way."_ The mech said quietly, sliding down so he was sitting next to her. _"It said where I was going and why and I even gave you a list of things you could do to help get the ship going. You know, if the boredom and alone-ness got too much. I guess you obviously never found my note though, cause if you'd found it you wouldn't be mad at me for keeping you prisoner and then running away for an orn."_

Her engine let out a guttural growl, but other than that, the teal and charcoal femme didn't respond.

 _"It was in the captain's chair, on the bridge. I figured you'd..."_ Blurr trailed off with a dismayed groan. She heard a light thud and glanced up briefly to find the mech face-palmed. He gave her an apologetic smile, _"Yeah, about that. I never actually gave you access to the bridge, did I?"_

She shook her ridged helm, before returning her helm to her knees.

He groaned again. _"My bad. Also, not even I have access to this room. The one you were obviously trying to get into. That's why I didn't think to show it to you, being all locked and everything."_

Then silence reigned for a grand total of half a klick. Honestly, the sniper was mildly surprised that it had lasted that long. Blurr didn't really strike her as the quiet-loving type.

 _"I can't do this. I'm sorry, but I'm really not the sit-around-in-companionably-awkward-and-depressed-silence kind of guy."_ He chuckled somewhat nervously at her utter lack of response before plowing on, _"Do you want Energon? I want Energon. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get a decent cube out there. Actually, nevermind, that was a stupid thing to say, because you've been living on the streets for half a vorn... um..."_ He jumped to his pedes and offered her an impatiently twitchy hand up, _"_ _ **Anyway**_ _, Energon?"_

Nightracer stared blankly at his hand for half a klick before pushing herself to her pedes, leaving his hand hanging. She was his prisoner and she could already tell that that was something she was going to have to remind herself of more frequently.

Trust no one, befriend no one, be responsible for no one. That was how being on the List worked.

Nevertheless, she obediently followed the Energon-blue racer as he padded along, talking in an unintelligible blur of unimportant things that he had learned or heard or seen or felt or thought about or even thought about thinking about, just to fill the oppressive quiet of the ship.

Still lost to her thoughts, the femme allowed Blurr to shepherd her to a table and coax her into sitting down. It would be best if she could just leave now. If she could avoid telling him that she was on the List. If he didn't know, then they would be just that much harder pressed to deviate from their mission long enough to track him down in his invisible ship.

Which would leave her one fewer life to be judged for when she offlined.

If such things even applied to a clone; a thought and fear that constantly hovered over her, taunting her at her weakest moments.

She sipped at the Energon Blurr placed in front of her, barely registering his questions as to its taste as he seated himself across from her. It had a distinct bite to it, reminding her of copper, hydrogen, and a dash of hyper-refined mercury. It tasted amazing. Best mixed Energon she'd had in vorns.

But she was too distracted to really savor it, much less tell her captor that.

Perhaps Swindle could help her. Blurr was right; she needed a t-cog before she could even consider leaving. With no external aid, no shelter, and no t-cog to boot, they'd have her smelting in Helex's chest before she could say 'Primus save my spark'.

So maybe Swindle could help. After all, like the mech said, finding a high-grade refiner shouldn't be too difficult in the mostly deserted city-state. And what harm could one meeting with the master-manipulator do? Give him the high-grade, get the medic. Done deal. Once she was repaired to top condition, she'd make her break and leave all thoughts of Blurr, Swindle, and their ready-bought medic behind her. Then the world return to being the simple, black and white life of her running for her spark from merciless killers.

What could possibly go wrong?

 _"Were you even listening to a word I just said?"_ A blue hand waved up and down in front of her optics, tearing the femme from her thoughts.

"..." She blinked at him, checking her databases for audial records of his one-sided conversation, but came up empty. She hadn't even been subconsciously listening. "Sorry, what?"

He levelled her with a flat stare, letting out a longsuffering sigh, _"I_ _ **asked**_ _who you're so afraid of Swindle selling you out to."_

Nightracer forced her shoulders to twitch in what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. "It isn't important. You said we needed a high-grade refiner? I have an idea where we could get one."

 **Next Rotation**

She leaned casually against the wall of the poorly-lit bar, her helm tilted down and her optics dimmed. With her arms crossed loosely over her steadily rising and falling chest, observers would have thought her to be in recharge. Not too far away from her, Blurr sat at the counter, hanging over a small, half-empty cube of sparking copper-cobalt Energon.

For the purposes of this mission, Nightracer had redone her paint job so that she wouldn't get kicked out by the proud owner of the establishment. She'd painted her forearms, calves, and chest plates a deep, almost-black shade of hunter green, while her helm, upper arms, hands, thighs, and mid-riff were a rich emerald. Her subspace belt and strip accents were a pale green.

All things considered, she had a pretty sweet looking under-cover paint job.

Her spark rolled discontentedly in its chamber as the femme waited in stoic silence. This would be her best chance of escape for the foreseeable future. Not that she necessarily wanted to escape. Besides, she really needed that t-cog. The sooner she got the cog, the sooner she would be able to leave for good.

Already she had waited too long. She should have left an orn ago.

The green-toned femme cringed as her processors chose that moment to replay the near massacre at Maccadam's Old Oil House the last time she had come here for refuge. It had been a hostage situation - or it was supposed to be until Tesarus got bored and pushed one of the innocent hostages through his blender of a chest, at which point Maccadam himself actually came out and physically kicked all six of them out of his bar.

Ironically, that made her the first and only Cybertronian to be banned from Maccadam's. The suave bar owner hadn't even banned the mechs who'd barged in, then terrorized and minced a customer for no good reason. Just her: the reason they'd come in the first place.

That had been the night she learned that she was on the List.

She should have known better than to hide in the same place for any period of time. If she had known better, the poor, very thoroughly scrapped mech would have been in about a million fewer pieces. Of course, she hadn't realized fully what they were capable of, nor that they were even after her at that point in time. Yet she blamed herself.

Her venting sped up faintly to cool her stressed, over-heating frame. She couldn't have a breakdown now. She needed to get away to prevent a re-run of that occurrence, and having a breakdown would prevent her from preventing it.

"Can I help you, miss...?" The beige and orange little waitress chirped happily, smiling brightly at her, awaiting a designation.

"Ersatz." Nightracer supplied quietly, having already established the cover. That was why she had had the alternate paints to start with. "And yes, since you're about to ask - like everyone asks - that's actually my name."

The waitress giggled, rolling over on her wheeled pedes to one of the other customers briefly. She curtsied quickly, making the femme's orange helm ornaments bounce. "Nice to meet'cha! I'm Lickety-Split, by the way. You waiting for a special mech, or just droppin' by for a drop of the good ol' midnight oil, Ersatz?"

She smiled softly at the cheerful femme, glancing over at Blurr. "I'll have a sweet-En, extra sweet."

"Rough day? How about a pump of high to give it some zest? Or if you've got somewhere to be tomorrow, I can give you a spark-soothing dash of diamond rose dust instead?"

"That actually sounds pretty wonderful."

"Extra-sweet with a dash of rose. I'll have that to you, lickety-split!" The femme winked, snapping her servos crisply and spinning off to the back room.

Nightracer slid onto the stool beside Blurr and leaned her helm on her hand. The mech had an odd expression on his face as he nursed his drink, _"Did she seriously actually say that?"_

She nodded, glaring sharply at one of the other long-since overcharged customers walking their way. This was why she avoided the stuff. The amount of pure energy in high-grade had a tendency to overload the systems, particularly the processors. That was why every Cybertronian had a fuel intake moderation chip that prevented getting overcharged. Yet many foolish bots turned off their FIMs to get 'charged on purpose.

She failed to see the allure of making one's self look like a two-bit lugnut with a processor glitch.

"So, how's the Sparking Cobalt? I've heard it's the most popular non-high-grade drink in the sector."

 _"It's reputation isn't exaggerated. Not in the slightest."_ Blurr replied enthusiastically, sliding it over to her right as her super-sweet rose En came. _"Here, you've gotta try some, you won't be disappointed, believe me. Though the price is still crazy."_

Smiling at Lickety-Split, who was now standing watching the two of them with eager optics, the emerald sniper took a sip of the strangely electric drink, jumping back in surprise as it shocked her lips, tingling in her mouth. She cocked her helm, regarding the cube with curiosity. "... Zappy."

Blurr and Lickey-Split burst into gales of laughter at her expression, which she imagined had to be hilarious from their perspective. The beige and orange waitress giggled, "I still don't know what the boss puts in them to give them their sparkiness, but they are the prize of Maccadam's! Anything else I can get for you?" The femme frowned at her, muttering under her breath, "I swear I recognize her..."

Nightracer leaned forward over the counter, glancing over her shoulder first, her voice lowering to little more than a whisper, "I need a favor from you... But it is vitally important that no one know about it, okay?"

The femme's grin melted and she looked around nervously before nodding for her to go on.

"We need to borrow one of the bar's high-grade refiners. The more portable the better." She raised her emerald hands to silence the waitress' protests, "We'll bring it back as soon as we're done, and we can pay for any trouble it causes."

Lickety-Split's faceplates went slack and her blue optics grew wider and wider until at last the femme shook her helm vigorously. "No, I know who you are now, and there is no way I'm going to do anything for you. You're not allowed to be here. You need to leave now, before they come and kill us all."

The orange femme's cooling fans kicked in and her armor began rattling against her as she backed away from the counter warily. "Ersatz/Nightracer, you seem like a nice enough femme, but- but... Last time you came here, bots **died**!"

Before Nightracer could recover from the stunned stupor that that statement had caused, Blurr had darted around the counter and pulled the waitress into an unoccupied booth, holding his hand over her mouth. _"Shh, shh. Don't scream, don't yell, just don't say or do anything that might draw attention to us alright? We don't want to hurt anyone, and we're not gonna hurt anyone as long as you don't draw attention to us, okay? We're not the bad guys."_

"We just need to secretly and likely illegally borrow your refiner for an indefinite period of time so we can give high-grade to the bad guys so we can buy a mercenary medic to help Blurr and myself." She muttered, slipping into the booth across from Blurr and Lickety-Split.

 _"Yeah! What she said."_ The light blue Autobot piped up, releasing the small waitress hesitantly. _"So, uh, not screaming hopefully? No one's exiled from Maccadam's! It's like the hole in the wall that's beyond faction, beyond war! How'd you get yourself banned, and Nightracer, what does she mean bots died last time you were here? "_

Lickety-Split pushed herself into the wall with a pout, crossing her arms over her chest with a moody huff. "I mean I watched a bot get turned into confetti in three seconds flat, just for kicks, by a guy with a giant red 'x' on his face and it's _her_ fault." She jumped suddenly, her optics going wide with awe as she let out a muffled squeal of excitement, "Oh. My. Spark. Did she just call you _Blurr_?! How on Cybertron did I not recognize you?! Oh my spark, this is so awesome! Like you are _the_ Blurr? The fastest mech alive?"

Blurr's face lit up like a neon sign, a massive grin splitting over his face. _"Oh, you've heard of me? Seen posters maybe? Watched me leave last vorn's fame and glory in the dust? Fastest mech alive? I'm honored, really, do you want an autograph?"_

"Know about you!?" The femme squealed, pulling a picture of him with the Ibex Cup from her subspace, "I probably know more about you than you do! ... Actually, that sounds creepy, pretend I never said that... Do I want an autograph? I know femmes who would _kill_ to get an autograph from you; of course I want an autograph!"

She shoved the picture into his hands, vibrating with giddy excitement, whispering, "Oh, mech, the femmes will be _sooo_ jealous! I think I'm gonna glitch, this is so awesome!"

"Blurr. She just told you a mech got turned into confetti and you're giving out autographs to fawning fan-femmes?" Nightracer rubbed between her eyes wearily, not bothering to question why he had a signature-engraving pen in his subspace. This was not what they'd spent the last three joors of waiting for.

He pushed out his lower lip, widening his blue optics, whining, _"But she's a fan... We want the public on our side, don't we? She's obviously been waiting all her life for this, I'd hate to disappoint her..."_

"You haven't even been racing all-"

His optics flashed meaningfully and demandingly. She raised an optic ridge, receiving a tiny little smirk from the speedster. The green sniper's large, crimson optics widened marginally as understanding dawned on her and she nodded her 'permission'. Technically, as his prisoner, she had no authority to give permission and he had no reason to request it, but she decided against pointing that out to him. It was after all, her mission, when it all came down to it.

 _"Now, here's my signature, all official and everything, so do you think you can get us that refiner?"_ Blurr coaxed gently, getting up from his seat to let the waitress out, handing her the autographed picture as he did so, winking not-so-covertly at Nightracer.

The orange femme rolled out of the booth clumsily, squealing into the palm of her hands until she locked optics with the green Con. "Wait... You being you is still like, the coolest thing that's ever happened to me, but she's on the List. If someone finds out..." Lickety-Split chewed on the tips of her servos anxiously, her wide blue optics shining with fear, "If someone finds out, I'd be better off for you to kill me now."

 _"No one will find out, I promise."_ The mech assured her, _"Besides, I_ _ **am**_ _Blurr: I'll just come racing in to your rescue before those bullies can even blink."_

Once the waitress had left to retrieve the refiner, grinning like a sparkling on her creation day, Blurr flopped back down into the berth with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his optics. _"Fans. That femme is so annoying, I can't even put it into words."_

Nightracer hummed in vague agreement, not really paying attention to him. She scowled finally, looking at him with worried optics, glancing around before whispering, "You do know what the List is, and what that means, right?"

 _"Uh... no. You're on some sort of a list, so what? I'm sure I'm on a lot of bots' hit-lists too, no big, this is war, I don't think its even possible to be alive and not have someone hate you for something or other that you've done or not done. Why? 'S'it important?"_

"No, not really." She mumbled, sighing in relief. This was good. He didn't know what the List was, and more importantly, he didn't know who was after her. Meaning, he was just about as safe as a bot could be when acquainted to her.

Lickety-Split came back, smiling as bright as ever. It was clear in her optics that the smile on her face was completely fake though. She discreetly passed Blurr the refiner, saying as she did so, "Here's what you wanted. Don't bother bringing it back, and don't bring yourselves back either. I don't know about you, but I like being a perfectly normal, fully-functioning neutral waitress at Maccadam's, and I really don't want to get murdered to death by the bots she's gotten crossways with."

With that, the orange femme wheeled off to cheerily greet a new table of customers, acting as if nothing had happened.

Blurr turned to face her, his expression rather disconcerted. When she failed to supply an explanation, he shrugged, _"Swindle wants to meet us in the old waste disposal facility a couple hics from here, two rotations from now, at 2400."_

"Let's go back and start getting the super-high ready for him then." She winced as she stood up, wrapping a hand over her damaged t-cog. Looking down at her green-toned paint-job, she added, "And put 'Ersatz' back in the closet where she belongs."

 **0150, Two Rotations Later**

Tap-tap-tap... Tap-tap-tap.

Tap-tap-tap-tap...

Tap.

Tap-tap... Tap-tap... Tap-tap.

Nightracer glared pointedly at the blue racer, causing him to pause in his impatient tapping for a klick. Apparently Swindle, as professional a business-mech as he had claimed to be, did not consider punctuality very important. She sighed, scanning their surroundings again.

She didn't like this. Not in the slightest.

A glitch-mouse scampered across the cold floor, followed by a shrieking gust of wind whistling through the rust-ridden walls of the abandoned facility. The partially severed roof creaked ominously under the black void of a night's sky, the moons long-since departed and the stars only faintly glimmering, as if they had grown weary of shining on their war ravaged world.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

"Blurr!" She shouted, her patience having run dry about a groon and a half ago, "If you don't stop that incessant tapping _right now_ , I swear I'll shoot you."

"Well, well, well..." A smooth voice drawled from the shadowed doorway across the room from where she and Blurr stood guarding the cases of high-grade. "I take it you pleasant bots are my newest clients?"

"Step out where we can see you, Con." The teal and charcoal femme snarled, drawing one of her gold rifles from subspace.

"You're one to talk, femme... You won't be needing that, trust me." His purple visor gleamed in the dark before Swindle's whole purple and tan, grinning self came into view. His hands were held up in a placating way. He cocked his helm, conceding, "Actually, you probably know better than to do that anyway."

The visor locked onto the stack of Energon cubes, his grin widening. "I see you brought the goods..." The mech trailed off as his attention was drawn away from the payment and towards the gold sniper rifle in her hands, his visor brightening greedily, "Is that... It is. One of the original Nightracer's personal sniper rifles, gold-class, heavily modified and personalized... That weapon is almost more of a legend than the femme herself; a single bullet is worth at least a thousand shanix with the right buyer..."

"One more step and you'll find a couple thousand shanix lodged in your spark." She sneered at him, brandishing the weapon at the slowly approaching weapons-dealer, opting to leave the second in subspace.

"Alright, alright, take it easy." Swindle replied, not losing his composure for a nano-second, his greedy gaze still on her gun. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to negotiate a price on such a... valuable weapon? The troubles you must have gone through to steal those beauties... I will pay you _handsomely_ to get my hands on those."

 _"They aren't for sale, Swindle, and that isn't why you're here anyway. We brought you the high-grade, and it's the real deal, so where's the medic you promised us?"_ Blurr demanded, stepping in front of their payment and crossing his arms.

The Combaticon cleared his vents, casually drawing a scanner from his subspace and maneuvering around Blurr to scan the high-grade, tilting his helm in satisfaction, "Authentic, good. Did I not mention? This is an excellent down-payment-"

 _"Down-payment? Whaddya mean down payment, you never said anything about a down payment! This was the deal, we give you the high-grade, you give us the medic, we part ways, the end."_

Nightracer snapped her battle mask up to shield the dreading expression growing on her face. Nothing was ever as simple as it should be when it came to Swindle. If things were simple, he would lose profit. He thrived on bots' desperation, because no one ever went to Swindle until they were at rock bottom. Until they couldn't argue any longer, because he was their last chance.

Swindle shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by Blurr's anger, "See, the medic I hired for you raised his price, leaving me no choice but to raise yours. And then of course, there's the obvious _risk factor_. Don't get me wrong, my clients always come first, but hey, a mech's gotta make a living too."

"What risk factor?" She asked calmly and politely, forcing her concerns out of her voice, glancing at Blurr to gauge his reaction and signal him to calm down. Losing one's cool with this mech would only make him dislike them, which would only put them deeper in his snare.

The brown and purple mech leaned up against a stack of dusty cargo boxes in the center of the room, making a point to appear friendly and relaxed, "I deal with all sorts of bots. Bots from the Senate, Decepticons, Autobots, neutrals, criminals... I really don't care. If they can pay, that's all that matters."

He flicked a micro-beetle off his arm, watching his two clients glare at him with suspicious optics, wondering just what he was getting at. He went on, "Thing is, I have my sources, and my sources give me an idea of who I'm working with, just a casual background check for my personal records, nothing major. I like to know whose hit lists my clients are on, for my own safety of course. And well, you, Nightracer, have managed to get on the bad side of a group of bots even _I_ know better than to mess with. I'm putting my life on the line to deal with you, and that isn't cheap."

"How much?" Nightracer asked flatly, hoping to keep the mech from spilling more information than she cared to have announced.

His answer was instantaneous, cementing her suspicions that this had been his plan all along. "Fifty-thousand shanix by this time next orn."

She stared at the Decepticon blankly for a whole klick, her masked mouth hanging agape. At last her gaze darted over to Blurr, finding him staring at Swindle with much the same expression. "You're joking."

"I never joke about money, sweetspark." Swindle replied, his voice seeming to ooze over them. An optic ridge showed itself over his violet visor as he smirked. "The way this works now, ladies and gentlemechs, is you pay up, or the deal's off and you're down two cases of super-refined high-grade, no gain. With the DJD involved, prices just sky-rocketed, and I'm guessing you're really not in a position to decline."

She glanced at Blurr again, but he seemed to be having difficulties processing what he was hearing. She frowned, glowering at the floor. Turning her piercing glare to the mech, she snarled, "And how do you expect us to get that much money in thirteen rotations? Cybertron went dark three quartex ago."

The smirk grew back into a full grin, "Ordinarily, that's not my problem, but what can I say? I'm feeling generous."

The mech summoned her over and laid out a portable holographic map on the top of the box, waiting until Blurr too had come over to examine the map warily. Swindle then proceeded to give them detailed instructions that would allow them, hypothetically, to sneak into the Altihexian citadel, hijack the trans-mat to get into Iacon - one of the last densely populated city-states on Cybertron.

Once they were in Iacon - the transmat would take them to the outskirts, leaving them to find their own way in - they would locate and infiltrate the Autobot high command. Hidden in a high-security ward, was a room filled with experimental, out-lawed weaponry.

The weapon in particular that they were after was a quantum-powered, dual-barrel cannon equipped with processor guided targeting systems. It could fire practically any ammo, including grenades, and via the processor interface automatically personalized itself to fit the size, class, function, and preference of the user. It had a variety of settings ranging from stunning to vaporization. It was even rumored to cloak the user when the user felt his or her life endangered, though Swindle was plainly skeptical of that.

To put it simply, the weapon was a work of art, envied by every weapons designer in military-science. However, it had been outlawed as an unnatural exploit and danger to the Cybertronian mind, as well as possessing a list of harmful and/or unknown side-effects that seemed to be twice the length of the weapon's rather impressive specs list.

Swindle looked rather smug at their awed expressions as they read through the specifications. He drummed his black servos on the box top, deactivating the holo-projector, "So. Do we have a deal?"

Since Blurr was still doing no more than blinking periodically as he stared blankly into nothing, Nightracer nodded reluctantly, feeling sick to her tanks, a pall of dread hovering over her spark. She shook the mech's hand swiftly, glad for once to have her mask raised, shielding her disgust.

"See you next orn, then." The brown and purple Decepticon smiled triumphantly as he made to leave, calling over his shoulder, "Try not to die prior to paying up."

Into the snare. She could only hope that they could eventually get back out with their liberty intact.


	7. Urgency

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Urgency**

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 **So, I know it's not Friday... Technically. But I'm sure it's Friday in some other part of the world, so that counts right? Anyhow, here's your next chapter of RTN. As always, I hope all my beloved readers enjoy reading this chapter and even more so, I hope you'll drop me a review to share your thoughts! Honestly, your reviews mean a lot to me, and the muses tend be less insistent without them. Reviews or no, this story will continue, but they would be most certainly appreciated motivation!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers.**

 **Review Responses: To enmused: Thanks sis, I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far, and yes, Swindle is incorrigible when it comes to business. Like he said, he never jokes about money. And yes, I am quite excited for the upcoming chapters! No spoilers, though, you'll just have to wait and see...**

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 _"What in the name of the Allspark do you_ _ **mean**_ _you're wanted by the DJD?!"_

She cringed for the millionth time that morning, her armor firmly pinned down to her sleek frame, her large crimson optics wide in a desperate, silent plea for him to understand. Not that he had any reason too, nor should she have had any reason to hope that he would.

All her safe havens went this way.

They claimed generosity and they swore to protect her, and to leave her free until she told them who she was afraid of. At long last they would learn - one way or another - that she'd attracted the attention of the big, bad DJD, and then all of their promises would melt away in a moment of horrified terror. And then, in the end, she would find herself exactly where she was now.

Behind bars.

Metaphorically at the very least, since most bots in their right minds didn't want to contain her; they merely wanted her gone and very, very, _very_ far away from them. Today however, was a slight deviation from the norm.

Today she was, metaphorically and literally, imprisoned.

 _"I mean the_ _ **Decepticon Justice Division**_ _?_ _Why didn't you tell me? You could have gotten me killed! In unnaturally excruciating innovative new ways! What in the galaxy possessed you to make you think I'd be okay with that?!"_

She pressed herself a little tighter into the corner of the floor of the brig that she had tucked herself into, making herself look as small as possible, whispering, "This is why I didn't tell you."

 _"What? What are you muttering about, looking all pitiful in your little corner?"_ Blurr snapped, the angry glare on his face somehow managing to look even angrier, though she could see in his optics that he wasn't completely unaffected by her 'pitiful' appearance.

"I said: this is why I didn't tell you." Nightracer repeated, her quiet voice only raised enough for him to be certain to hear. "Because this always happens when bots take me in. Play by play, every time. Friendly bot takes me in, finds out about the DJD, and freaks out."

 _ **"I'm not freaking out!"**_ The mech bellowed, slamming his fist into the force-field keeping her in, making it spray sparks towards her. _"What on Cybertron gave you that idea?!"_ He straightened up, puffing out his chest and playing up a sarcastically grandiose tone, _"No, I'm completely and totally, absolutely the calmest bot in history, because it's not like we're not both about to be stabbed and eviscerated and smelted and electrocuted and shredded and mutilated and chewed on and blasted and forced to eat our own processor modules until we get sung to death by the most Decepticon-y Decepticon in the history of Decepticons!"_

"Blurr..."

 _"Don't 'Blurr' me! You don't even know me!"_ The mech nearly shrieked, beginning to gain a minutely hysterical glint to his optics.

She vented deeply, averting her gaze sadly, muting whatever it was she had planned to say, brushing a clawed hand over her blue helm. All the previous evening once they'd returned from their meeting with Swindle, Blurr had been dead silent, sitting perfectly still on the couch in the rec room, not even twitching.

Worried about him, she'd stayed in the rec room with him for the whole first night cycle, trying to get him to fuel, or twitch, or do something. She'd begged, ordered, nagged. She even tried moving every single thing in the rec room so that it was just wrong in such a way that it would have driven him positively mad any other time.

In the end, she'd given up on trying to coax her captor out of his seeming trance and went to berth. Now it was about 0340 and he had been yelling at her for nearly a groon after having burst into her room and woken her up to stare up the barrel of his gun.

If things went the way they always did - and she had no delusions that they could go otherwise - Blurr would soon lower the charged energy field, knock her out, and she would wake up in a joor or so and find herself on a transport to the Pits or some other such distant place.

"Please, stop yelling at me." The sniper pleaded quietly, locking her optics on his. "Just send me away, or start shooting at me or something, anything, just please stop yelling at me."

He froze mid-rant that she had only been half listening to. The Autobot blinked at her, genuinely confused by her statement. His face twisted into sympathy, bringing a low growl to her stressed engines. She needed to have left over an orn ago. She wasn't supposed to have let herself get comfortable, not even for a few rotations, because she didn't deserve to get settled. This was her fate: second best. Unwanted.

Ersatz.

"I don't need your short-lived, misplaced pity either." She sighed heavily, staring blankly at her servos, carefully focusing on focusing on nothing. "Just get it over with. Be gentle about knocking me out, if you don't mind. It's easier to start running again without a helm-ache."

 _"What are you even talking about?"_ Blurr demanded, his whole demeanor softening from rage to lost puzzlement.

She cocked her helm, shrugging at the obviousness of the whole situation, but now feeling a sliver of doubt sinking into her spark, in spite of her determination to not hope. "Well, experience says that you're gonna knock me out and ditch me someplace where the DJD won't trace it back to you," She explained matter-of-factly, "So, I'm asking you to be gentle about it, if you've got more of a spark than my previous 'friends'."

At his continued stare, the teal and charcoal femme shrugged again despondently, "Letting me get my things from the suite would be nice too. They're all I have left of the good times."

She picked at the worn-through armor of her left servos. The protoform beneath had healed, but she would have to get a new set of servo-plating somewhere, somehow. The main issue to deal with now would be getting away as soon as possible. She ought to have left before now. She'd grown attachments here. Weaknesses.

All she'd done was endanger Blurr in his invisible, excessively extravagant fortress. She was hazard, to be disposed of with all haste.

 _"Why would I send you away? If I was gonna do that, I might as well just kill you right here and now and save myself the hastle."_ At her horrified expression, the blue Autobot waved his hands quickly, his optics widening as he rushed to clarify, _"Nonono, not that I'm saying that that's what I'm going to do, cause that would be cold-sparked murder, and I'm an Autobot, so that's not how we do things, and even if it were I wouldn't kill you!"_

"Why? Because everyone does." Nightracer replied, wrapping her arms around herself. "Because _they_ 'll kill _you_ if you don't. And, believe it or not, I don't actually want that to happen."

The force field came down with a muted fizzle, followed by a pop of energy discharging, and then Blurr trotted into the cell and leaned up against the wall, crossing his ankles casually.

 _"Well, in case you hadn't noticed yet, I'm not your average mech."_ He offered her a hand up, an apologetic smile lighting on his lips. _"Sorry I was freaking out in the face of most certain death, because envisioning my own death can be stressful, as I'm sure you can imagine since you've been doing this for half a vorn."_

She accepted the offered hand, not taking her optics off the floor. The femme rubbed her arm, glancing up at the mech with a distrusting frown, replying quietly, "I'll go get my things, and then you can show me out."

She rushed out of the brig, jogging straight to her quarters with no delay. Even if he was serious about not sending her away, she needed to leave. The Decepticon Justice Division didn't know anything about him yet, even though he knew about them. Besides, cloaked or not, they had to be nearby. They would find her, and anyone stupid enough to help her would suffer the same fate that she inevitably would.

Shoving through the revolving door to her quarters, Nightracer snatched down the two datapads of music along with the tri-colored lava lamp, stuffing them into her subspace. With a little more hastle, she unpinned the shimmering alloy blanket, carefully folding it up and tucking it away.

Pulling off Swindle's munitions heist would be substantially more difficult alone on one hand, but on the other hand, she would be able to move around with much more freedom without having a hyperactive Autobot partner to worry about.

Her frenzied motions came to a halt as she looked around the already primarily cleared out suite with a small smile. She would miss the berth most. She definitely wasn't looking forward to crashing out in waste disposals and grubby closets again.

She turned to the display of holo-images she'd posted on the broken vid-screen. Mumbling a little apology as she started taking down and stowing each picture one by one, the femme took a moment to examine each happy memory. This would probably be the last chance she'd get to look at them for awhile, what with having the DJD, her repairs, and Swindle to deal with. Because nothing could ever be easy for her.

Everything just always had to go to slag at the sight of her.

These photos were all she had left of before her life decided to blow up and fall to pieces all around her. Before the most despicable mech in the War told her she was his property, spawned in a tube for the sole purpose of terminating the sparks of others on the whim of higher-up. Before their happy little femme team split paths, or the Lord Protector killed their world, or she offed her commander in favor of saving the embodiments of their future. Before she was a wanted fugitve being pursued by professional sadists.

She slid the last photo into her subspace compartment and locked it with a flick of her wrist.

The femme stood at the front of the room with slumped shoulders, looking over everything one last time with a heavy ex-vent. Moving forward, moving on. Darkshine used to tell her that all the time, said it was the only way to accomplish anything in their war-torn lives.

So far, the black and silver jet's simple wisdom hadn't failed her.

Nightracer jerked away reflexively as a hand lighted on her shoulder, glaring at the blue mech for always being able to startle her so easily. Soon enough that wouldn't be a problem she'd have to worry about though, so she didn't mention it.

 _"You know you don't have to leave, right? Not that you have to stay either if you don't want to, I mean I don't really care either way..."_ Blurr paused for a moment, starting to pace behind her, gesturing as he spoke, _"I mean, it doesn't bother me if you think I'm just too annoying to be around, cause a lot of bots think that, I just don't want you to think I'm going to kick you out or something, but I won't stop you if you do wanna leave. But it'd be cool if you'd stay, cause even if I do get this ship working, I won't be able to run it on my own, and the company'd be nice even if I could run it on my own, cause space is a big place and..."_

The mech trailed off and appeared in front of her, crouching briefly to look at her down-turned face. When she looked up, he straightened, smiling at her hopefully, _"Besides, I told you I'd get you a new t-cog, so you can stay until I make good on my word. Because I'm an Autobot and Autobots are bots of their word."_

"It isn't safe." She replied adamantly, her engine growling in displeasure at the small part of her elated to have an excuse to stay a little longer. It would only be another orn. Another orn of a good berth to recharge on every night, Energon to refuel on whenever she wanted, and the company of a bot who, unlike most, didn't seem to want to kill her.

 _"If I know anything about anything, this ship is probably the safest place in the galaxy for someone like you."_ He countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Her optics narrowed. This was new. Normally she was arguing to stay, not to leave. "The safest place for someone like me is alone and on the move. I refuse to watch bots die for no other reason than that they'd met me."

 _"Then I won't die, and if I do I'll do it someplace you can't see me."_

At that, Nightracer burst out laughing, partially at the childlike simplicity of his proposed solution, and partially at the sheer impossibility of it. The sound was harsh. Cold and sparkless to a point that it almost scared her to know that such hopelessness could come out of her own vocalizers. The DJD would never be so kind as to terminate those who assisted her without forcing her to watch.

That wasn't how the Decepticon Justice Division worked.

No, they'd seat her in Kaon's grasp and they would torture him in front of her and in the very end they would ensure that he died in front of her in the most pointless, meaningless way possible before spending groons torturing her as well. Because putting her through all of that pain would be no fun at all to them if they couldn't break her will in the process.

Her lips curled up in a small smile as the femme forced herself to focus on the imperturbable stubbornness in Blurr's optics. "Fine, we get the gun, pay Swindle, repair me, and then I'll leave. And you won't try to stop me next time."

 **Two Joors Later**

They stared up at the massive, blast-riddled capital building of Altihex, once the prized jewel of the sector. Now it stood rusted and charred, leaning precariously to the side from one of the many bombings it had proudly - or else doggedly - withstood.

"Just remember, walk like you own the place and don't talk to anyone unless spoken to. Altihexians have been through more than most in the War; they don't like strangers, and they definitely don't like bots like you, no offense." Nightracer said quietly, glancing at Blurr to make sure he was still following the last important set of advice before they went in. "You're too... bright for this part of the sector."

He nodded in response, his silence somewhat disturbing to her, yet very good for their mission. A comms request pinged on her heads-up display, and the teal and charcoal femme accepted it, glancing to the blue mech to confirm that he was ready.

 **/Okay then. Here goes nothing./** She sent, walking through the doors with determined steps, holding her frame straight and tight the way the higher-ups always did in Kaon.

She still wasn't entirely sure why the mech had insisted that she be in charge. But here she was. He had pretty much refused to do anything that might possibly be considered making a decision, leaving her few alternatives.

The bots inside sat huddled in corners or on furniture, glaring sidelong at the two newcomers, each bot looking as though they hadn't seen a medic or a wash-rack since the Great Exodus a few quartex ago. Nightracer fought against the urge to shudder as she felt the Altihexians all eyeing both her frame and Blurr's, their judgemental gazes being almost tangible as they swept over her.

They were too well-kept.

Their paint was new, their armor was in good repair, and they showed no signs of the ill effects of Energon deprivation. Three excellent reasons to set the inhabitants of the citadel on edge.

 **/Try to look more sullen?/** She asked/ordered over the comm link, noting that her mask had risen with the tension in the air, but not lowering it again. In this particular case, it would do her good.

 _ **/This**_ **is** _ **my sullen face! I don't think my face can get any sullen-er!/**_

She smirked behind the hated mask, marveling for a nanoklik that even his glyphs had a rushed slant, replying, **/Just try./**

The suspicious glares of the wounded and hungry bots never left them as captor and prisoner walked side by side towards the large door on the other side of the room. She couldn't help but feel like she was striding silently to her execution as tensions only rose with their every pede-fall.

Approaching the door, Nightracer inclined her helm respectfully to the large mech seated in front of it. He was a burly, foul-tempered looking jet, his right optic put out and covered up with a patch of crumpled scrap metal. The right wing was sliced off with a blade that must have been black cybertonium, because only a blade of that make would have cut so cleanly. It too was covered with a haphazardly bent and welded sheet of scrap.

"Excuse me, sir, could we get by?" She asked quietly, keeping her voice as polite and meek as possible, knowing that angering this sort of a mech would only mean more trouble than she was wont to resolve tidily.

"Ain't no bot 'round 'ere as answers t'tha." The mech grunted, not even bothering to look up at them. "Try't agin."

Blinking, she did as bidden, "Excuse me, could we get by?"

He let out a satisfied huff, but made no move to remove himself from the doorway. "Wha's a pair o' shiny pleasure-bots like you doin' up 'ere in Al'hex Central n'any case, eh?"

Blurr's engine growled indignantly, _"Watch it, Rusty! Who're you calling pleasure-bots? Just 'cause I didn't pull half my frame out of the scrapyard doesn't-"_

She stuck out an arm, restraining the blue racer before he could do something rash that would likely get them both killed here. The Autobot glanced down at her hand on his angrily heaving chest, before scowling and backing down. She waited until she could feel his battle protocols shutting down, then removed her hand, glad for once that no one could see the disgusted expression on her face. She wanted nothing more than to help Blurr teach the mech some manners, but now was not the time.

"We don't want to cause trouble, we just need to get by you." She said, only partially keeping a civil tone.

"Well, you _pleasure-bots_ 're just gonna have'ta find some other bot to bug, cause this one ain't gonna shift 'is aft outta yer way 'less you give'im a pretty slaggin' good reason."

Her engine rumbled at the repeated offensive jibe, her ruby optics narrowing as her patience drew thinner, her tone growing sickeningly sweet, "I have... _friends_ in high places that you really don't want to get on the bad side of."

The teal and gray sniper leaned forward to whisper something only his audials could hear. Pulling away, she watched with a terrified sort of thrill as the mech's yellow optic widened in a fear rarely seen on such mechs. Hardly an astrosecond later, he'd scrambled away from the door, even giving her a small bow as he went.

"My 'pologies, miss, I din't mean no harm!"

Nightracer glanced at Blurr before hitting the control that made the doors hiss and slide open in front of them. She nodded to the rusted old fighter and went through to the next corridor, taking a huge vent of relief once the door hissed shut behind Blurr. Snapping the mask down as quickly as she could, and smiling brightly at feeling the air on her faceplates, the femme drew out the hand-held holo-projector map Swindle had given her for the purposes of the mission.

"Looks like we want to follow this corridor around the bend, take the elevator - should be first door on the right after the bend - and head up to level 7." She said quietly, showing Blurr the map to get his opinion.

 _"Yeah, something like that."_ He replied, staring back at the closed door they'd just come through instead of the map she was holding up. _"What did you tell the poor mech? He looked like he'd just seen a nest of sparkeaters."_

"I told him I'm a personal friend of Tarn's." She shrugged lightly, letting her armor fall back down from the aggressive tilt it had gained after the mech's pleasure-bot comment. "... Now that you mention it, poor mech probably won't get much recharge for a while."

 _"B-But you... you can't just_ _ **tell**_ _people that!"_ Blurr spluttered, grinning widely nonetheless, following her down the corridor.

Nightracer grinned, shivering slightly as her nervousness gave way to smug excitement. She'd never actually, properly threatened a bot before. It felt kind of like in all those holovids, where the hero just walked up all confident and fearless, then smiled sweetly while basically telling bots to do as they say or get scrapped.

She hadn't expected it to work, which made it kind of awesome that it did. Her spark was still buzzing.

"I just did, didn't I?" She pointed out, clamping down a giggle in favor of swaggering confidently down the corridor.

Arriving at the desired elevator, the sniper punched the up arrow. This mission would be a breeze. After all, she simply had to casually bring up the big three letters, and bots would bow to her will. Easier than stealing Energon from a sparkling.

 _"I'll take the stairs, see you at the top, slow-poke!"_ The blue mech teased, laughing in his clear timbre and shooting off down the corridor in a streak of blues.

The elevator doors slid away with a cheerful chime, leaving a giant wall of living metal behind them, inches from her face-plates. Nightracer felt her life-En go icy and a convulsive shudder ran down her struts as she slowly looked up, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the mech's face.

A terrified squeak escaped her lips and the femme scrambled back until her dorsal plating slammed into the opposite wall of the corridor. Her armor shrank down and pressed tightly against her protoform. Crimson optics wide, she glanced over to where Blurr had stood just moments before, biting her lip in distress.

The navy and white war-machine chuckled at her fear, grinning at her, "I take it my reputation has proceeded me. What brings you to this backwards citadel, clone?"

"L-Lord O-Overlord..." She stammered, bowing deeply before returning to her previous position. Her armor started trembling faintly as she realized the mech knew who she was. Apparently her creator's projects were more commonly published than she'd thought. "I-I c-came only to take the transmat to - to I-Iacon, s-sir."

"Oh, my dear femme, you needn't _fear_ me. I have no intentions of killing you..." He laughed again, the spark-stopping sound sending a chill through her, "Yet."

 **/Blurr? Don't come to the elevator... Just go to the transmat room./** She commed quickly, forcing her optics to stay bright so as not to alert the Overlord to her actions. **/And whatever you do, stay out of sight./**

"Besides," He drawled, wrapping a massive, gun-laden arm over her shoulders and entering the elevator, "Level Seven - You're in luck, little clone, you'll have the privilege of being personally escorted by the only mech of my standing that would deign to even speak to such a lowly creature as yourself."

She repressed another shudder, visibly sagging in relief when he took his hand off her shoulders. She could practically feel the life-En from the thousands of bots those very hands had terminated. She replied quietly, "I truly am honored, my lord."

 _ **/Okay, what's wrong? Do you need help - never mind, you wouldn't tell me to hide if you needed help - what's going on?/**_

The elevator chimed loudly, causing the anxious femme to jump slightly in fright, exiting the elevator moments later and checking to make sure that Blurr wasn't around. The only reason this mech hadn't terminated her was the symbol on her chassis, and not even that would prevent him for long.

 **/Explain later./**

Besides that, they needed desperately to get away from Overlord as quickly as possible, because the ex-Phase-Sixer had a unique spark signal strong enough to draw the DJD to them in a matter of groons. And wouldn't they just be thrilled to find _two_ bots on the List, with an Autobot tag-along to top it off.

She had to go and start enjoying herself. And thinking that for once in her life, something could just go according to plan?

She was a fool to think that fate could shine so brightly on her.

"I thought you went to Garrus-9 last decavorn, after you refused when the Lord Protector chose you for Operation Six Phase?" Nightracer asked tentatively, trying not to cringe away as the gigantic mech measured his step to match hers as they headed towards the transmat room.

"Yes..." The growl of his engine rattled her frame, reverberating through the hall. He cleared his vents and rolled his shoulders, glowering down at her, "... I have found Garrus-9... _intriguing_ , however I heard rumors of the ultimate weapon being housed somewhere in Iacon's depths. I came to test if its reputation be true."

"Oh."

The sniper felt her spark rate double, the pulse of energy within her beating against its chamber ferociously, as though it wanted to escape her frame and thereby the horrible offlining that was walking right next to her, emitting a signal that would summon even an more horrible offlining.

"What draws you to Iacon, clone?" Overlord questioned, watching her reaction closely.

She was so slagged.

Nightracer overrode the subconscious command that tried to start her fans whirring and her vents heaving to cool her rapidly panicking frame. Her spark pulse seemed so loud she was half afraid Overlord would hear it. Her fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly and her armor shrank down a little more, making her protoform mildly ache from the pressure.

The femme team always said she was a miserable liar.

He couldn't know that she was here for the same reason, and he definitely couldn't know that she had more intel on it than he did. Hopefully, he would attribute the added shaking of her voice to her overall fear of him, rather than her fear of being found out.

"I... I just wanted to get away... from here. Start fresh in the... the best city left." She stuttered quietly, averting her gaze in the hopes of simultaneously hiding her face and looking more convincing. She rubbed her elbow with one hand, just to keep her hands moving to hide how they shook.

They stepped into the transmat chamber, and once again Nightracer glanced around anxiously, taking comfort in seeing no sign of the blue racer. She waited until Overlord motioned her forward, then hurried up and tapped in the coordinates Swindle had given her.

Being just at the outer edge of the city, the supplied coordinates helped back her excuse for going to Iacon. She allowed herself a quick vent, turning to watch the transmat pad light up a bright magenta. A brief, almost nonexistent touch of another EM field brushed against hers and the femme whirled around to lock optics on a dark grate over a branch of the citadel building's ventilation system.

For less than an astrosecond there was a tiny glint of sapphire optics in the murky black of the shaft. She felt her engine hitch for a moment, earning her a suspicious glare from Overlord, which in turn made her jerk away, focusing on directing her attention anywhere but to where Blurr was hiding.

 **/Stay put, don't let yourself be seen./**

 _ **/Don't let myself be seen by who? I'm sure I'm not that ugly, and I don't think I did or said anything to annoy you, so what's the problem?/**_ Blurr replied, tacking on a few glyphs expressing aggravated confusion and suspicion.

"You'll be dead before you reach the vent, if that's what you were thinking." Overlord commented casually, strolling towards her in a leisurely, yet menacing manner. "Or are you hiding something or some _one_ in the shafts? Don't worry, I'm a fair mech: they'll be just as dead as you."

She fought back a grimace as a sharp clang echoed from the vent, shortly followed by a hissed string of insults too fast to be understood. She dug one fang into her lower lip, resisting the urge to glare at the vent. **/Let me rephrase that: don't let yourself be seen** _ **or**_ **heard. The problem is Overlord, and now he knows you're-/**

Her helm suddenly crashed into the wall and Nightracer's vocalizers let out a shocked squeak of fright, her large ruby optics widening. Overlord sneered at her, tightening his grip around her neck and lifting her several feet above the ground. Her pedes kicked out instinctively, landing a harsh blow to the mech's abdomen, but it only served to make him press her further into the wall until her resistance stopped and errors started flashing on her HUD, declaring a power shortage to her processors.

 _Warning: Resuming Energon flow to processors is advised. Processor functions will cease in 1.7392 klicks._

"Why are you going to Iacon and who is behind that vent!?" Overlord roared in her face, "Answer me, clone!"

She was going to die. Her next action would ensure it.

The quivering sniper shook her helm.

Her engine whimpered and she opened her mouth, shifting her helm in a futile attempt to renew Energon flow, crying out in pain and terror as he only squeezed harder, his optics gaining a dangerous gleam that verged on madness. "ANSWER ME!"

A loud clatter rang through the room and a streak of blue shot out from the vent and rammed into Overlord's side, hardly making the massive mech budge. However, the action was enough to infuriate the gladiator, causing him to drop her with a reverberating snarl as he poised to lunge at Blurr, who at that point was already across the room.

"You wish to challenge _me_?" Overlord laughed, gesturing Blurr forward with a wicked grin of anticipation.

Nightracer watched in horror as the blue mech approached as bidden, the normal spring in his steps not faltering for a nano. Was the mech completely glitched? No bot lived through a one-on-one battle with Overlord. Megatron alone could best Overlord. And no offense to Blurr's courage - or rather, stupidity, if she were frank - but he was in no way, shape, or form even half as powerful as Megatron.

 **/Are you nuts? What do you think you're doing? You'll be a puddle of slag on the floor before you can even draw a weapon!/** She shouted over the comms - as much as one can shout in glyphs - not using her vocalizers, since her self-repairs were still focusing on fueling her Energon-starved processors rather than fixing her bruised vocals.

He drew his blaster and winked at her, _**/See? No slag puddles yet, so you don't have to start crying over your favorite dead captor. Change the coordinates of the transmat to like, I don't know the middle of the Rust Sea or something./**_

 **/I don't** _ **know**_ **the coordinates to the Rust Sea!/** She objected, running over to the terminal anyway, her servos hovering over the terminal as her optics frantically ran over each key, searching for some sort of help. Her spark pounded as Blurr drew closer to Overlord, casually maneuvering so that his back was to the transmat pad. **/I'm a** _ **sniper**_ **! I shoot things! I don't do transmat control...** _ **stuff**_ **.../**

Blurr's expression darkened for a moment, then he rushed at Overlord, dealing several well-placed blows and darting back out of reach, effectively luring the massive mech towards their trap-in-progress. **/** _ **I don't know any more than you do! Just do**_ **something** _ **!/**_

Her engine whined lowly and she hit a series of glyphs, biting her lip and cringing away from the terminal as if it might explode in her face. When it failed to do so, Nightracer sent a wordless ping to the blue racer, informing him that the transmat was ready. She watched in trepidation as Blurr darted forward again and landed a few punches, then leapt back over the transmat. Overlord took the bait and lunged after the mech, stepping onto the magenta pad right as it reached full power, shooting a blast of magenta light around him.

The mech roared in anger as he realized what they had done, but the sound of his wrath quickly faded away with the burst of light, until the pad returned to its placid pulsing, the thrum of its systems dulling as it powered down to standby.

 _"Whoo! That actually worked, I wasn't expecting that to work, but mech is he gonna be seriously ticked off wherever he is now. Where'd you send him anyway? I hope it's at least a sector away, cause I really don't want to meet that guy for a long, long time."_ Blurr rambled; sauntering up to the terminal she was still standing behind and leaning over it to stare at the coordinates she'd mashed in.

Nightracer shrugged minutely, "I don't have a clue... This is all in *Ahtzobahts, which I only know a tiny bit of..." She smiled wryly, "From what I can tell, I transported him to 'The Grand-Lunch's Basement Upstairs'."

 _"I wondered why your *Cy-Stan was so harsh sounding... Makes a whole lot more sense if your first language was *Dazezik'n. But I'm pretty sure it doesn't say anything close to the Grand-Lunch's Basement Upstairs."_ He cocked his helm at her for a moment, then burst out laughing when he read what the terminal actually said, not noticing her instant correction of how he pronounced the Decepticon dialect. Another half a klick later, the mech's face fell and he was instantly sobered. _"This says you transported him to the Iaconian Hall of Records, which if memory serves is just next to high-command, which means oh scrap, Overlord's gonna kill every single bot he can find until he gets that gun."_

 _"I told you to send him to the Rust Sea!_ _ **Not**_ _the most densely populated city on the planet!"_ Blurr roared at her suddenly, making the femme automatically tense up and shrink away from the terminal, glancing around for an escape route.

"It's not my fault..." The femme pointed out quietly, her engine letting out a low whine. "I told you, I only read *Daiz'pq'rion and Cyber-Standard."

He looked ready to object, but after meeting her optics he simply nodded, zipping around the terminal to press a few different glyphs. _"You're right, it isn't your fault so I shouldn't yell at you for not knowing every dialect on Cybertron, I should just be glad you even know Cy-Stan, cause a surprising number of Cons don't. This should hopefully take us just outside of the high-command building, unless I'm mistaken, which I very well might be, but we don't want to be in the same room as Overlord, and whatever we do, we absolutely have to keep him away from the weapon's vault, or who knows how many he'll kill just to play with his new toys."_

Nightracer bowed slightly in submissive agreement to the mech, hesitant to trust that his anger could subside so rapidly. Though so far he had proven himself to be a generally amiable mech, he had also shown a tendency to be swing from extremes of wrath and cheer at a klick's notice.

She sighed, trying not to think about just how furious Overlord would be at that exact moment - shuddering as she could still feel his hand around her neck, crushing vital lifelines with an ease that could only come from vorns of practice.

"And in the meantime, Primus help anyone who gets in his way."

 ***Ahtzobahts: The dialect of the Autobots. (As pronounced by Decepticons)**

 ***Cy-Stan/Cyber-Standard: Cybertronian Standard. Universal language on the planet Cybertron.**

 ***Dazezik'n: The dialect of the Decepticons. (As pronounced by Autobots)**

 ***Daiz'pq'rion: The dialect of the Decepticons. (As pronounced by Decepticons)**


	8. Lords of the Battle

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Lords of the Battle**

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 **And hurray another chapter! So, yeah, this one's pretty late, I know, but it's up now! Huge thanks and applaud to enmused, my beta, who is the reason I had the motivation to post this. Just as a warning, there are some very dark parts in this chapter, so you've been warned.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers.**

 **Review Responses: ... Heh... um, yeah no. Just kidding! The last several chapters I've been watching the number of reviews this story gets dwindle, and it would seem we've hit rock bottom... So since this has dealt a huge blow to my authorial confidence, please review so I know people actually do read and enjoy this story!**

* * *

Hues of fuchsia radiance curled and spun around them, and she watched in mystified awe as her servos dissolved before her very optics. Gradually the space around Blurr and herself was swarming with their own molecules, feeling like a myriad of tiny bubbles popping on her armor. Enthralled by the unique sensation, Nightracer giggled, wiggling the molecules of her hand with youngling-like wonder.

Moments later, her whole frame disappeared and she found herself standing next to Blurr in the midst of a crowd of screaming bots. A large femme slammed into her, not even slowing down in her mad dash away from whatever had the city in an uproar.

"What are they running from?" She shouted to Blurr, only to find that her voice was completely drowned out by the hysterical wailing of everyone around them. Switching to comms, she repeated her query, **/What are they running from?/**

 _ **/I think the better question would be who./**_ Blurr replied tersely, spinning her around to face where they were running from.

The sniper beheld with a light shiver as a disembodied neon green and orange arm flew over the crowd and shattered against the face of a skyscraper above them. **/First ninety-nine guesses don't count... Come on, you said this was the building we're looking for?/**

Nightracer glanced at Blurr, patiently letting the mech turn her around three hundred and sixty degrees. Still staying close by so as to not be separated by the endless streams of wailing civilians, the blue mech pointed up at the giant neon white glyphs on the side of the building she was now facing.

 _ **/Yeah, no, that was the wrestling ring.**_ **This** _ **is the building we're looking for./**_

She shifted her gaze between the two buildings, cocking her helm in acknowledgement. The wrestling building was comparatively short and squat, with broken windows and bulging walls pocked with dents that vaguely resembled the silhouettes of various mechs and femmes. Whereas the building she was now staring at was tall and stately; elegant, but in a threatening, heavily fortified way that reminded her instantly of Enforcers.

"I-I'm not sure I want to go in..." She muttered to deaf audials, following Blurr into the Autobots' high-command center.

The Justice wasn't the only group of bots that she was wanted by after all. Because just in case being a Decepticon wasn't enough reason to want her shot or jailed, she'd also ended up getting herself on the bad side of the law. It wasn't technically her fault. That time. Running from the DJD made a bot desperate. It made a bot lonely, terrified beyond reason - only not really, given what they were capable of - and in all simplicity, hungry.

When bots are scared and hungry, they tend to care about little things like laws just that much less. Meaning, when the waste En recyclers were dry, and bots didn't leave enough of their meals at diners, she turned to less conventional means of acquiring fuel.

For a while, that worked out for her. No bot had enough fuel any more, so no bot blamed her for surviving, not even Enforcers. Everyone was out there for themselves; they stuck to themselves, she stuck to herself, and things were okay. Until she got in with a little band of bots that happened to be on Iacon's Most Wanted. Of course, she never knew about that until one dreary morning, they stumbled into an Enforcer patrol.

At which point, the kind bots she'd been running with for hardly a few orns threw her to the cops and ran while she made for a convenient distraction with the bomb they'd planted on her without her realizing.

Needless to say, she wasn't thrilled to be waltzing into Cop-Central. Through the front door, no less.

She walked quietly beside Blurr through the echoing silence, doing all that she could to keep her pede-falls from booming like cannon blasts in the grand hall. The roof loomed so far overhead that she couldn't even make it out, and they could see the rails of each and every floor above them, as high up as the optic could see, and very likely much beyond that.

Outside, the shouting was getting quieter, the stampedes thinning. A morbid part of her wondered if it was because most of the would-be escapees had gotten away, or because most had already died trying.

 **/So what now?/** She commed, not daring to speak. Both bots warily glared at each and every elegantly engraved column lining their path as though someone would leap out of behind it.

 _ **/I don't s'pose Swindle gave you a holo-map of this building too? Cause that'd be really handy right about now, cause I've only been here once and I took the tour, but I wasn't really paying attention very much because.../**_ He trailed off, almost like he was embarrassed about something.

Which of course piqued her curiosity, leading her to prompt, **/Because...?/**

Blurr gave her a reproachful look that almost made her regret asking. Almost. She briefly considered that it was somewhat unusual that they hadn't been greeted by armed guards escorting them to a cozy cell to grow old and rust in.

 _ **/Don't even try to tell me you wouldn't have been at least a little bit distracted if you were in the same situation! I was doing just fine and enjoying the tour and then I stopped paying attention because-/**_ He looked like he wanted to forgo finishing again, but sighed heavily at her expectant expression, ending with an exasperated, _**/Because**_ **Optimus** _ **!/**_

Suddenly she froze, her optics going wide as she refocused on the task at hand. A faint, practically inaudible clicking...

Nightracer pounced on Blurr, shoving him behind a white pillar before darting behind the next one over, bracing her back against its cool surface. She slid a servo up to her lips to signal silence, pressing her face to the column in order to peek around it while remaining unseen.

A klick passed in tense stillness, then Blurr shifted, his engine creaking slightly in a repressed moan. Another four klicks. The blue mech commed, _**/What? What is it? I didn't even hear anything, and there's nothing out there, it's probably your imagination playing tricks on you./**_

The femme didn't respond and another klick rolled by.

 _ **/Nightracer, c'mon, there's nothing out there. Even if there is, we don't have time to sit here staring at the wall cause you're scared of you're own echo!/**_

With that, the mech came out of hiding and dragged her back into the corridor in a disorienting blur of motion. He put his hands on his hips smugly, saying, _"See? Nothing to w..."_

His statement trailed off as they both felt the vibrating tips of charged blasters touch their dorsal plating. She couldn't help but feel the tiniest sliver of self-satisfaction as her fears proved to be well founded. If that hadn't been primarily overridden with new fears, she might have said something along the lines of, 'I told you so'.

"Worry about?" One of the mechs behind them suggested dryly, shoving Nightracer forward with his gun. The other one snickered, prodding Blurr in the same manner. The first one sounded thoughtful, "So what brought you back to Iacon with a known Decepticon fugitive, Blurr? I thought you chose our side when the War broke."

 _"I_ _ **did!**_ _"_ Blurr snarled indignantly, surprising her with how concise he was being.

"Which is why you and your Decepticon femme friend here are sneaking around our highest security headquarters." The first one retorted, his skeptical tone obviously not buying it.

 _"Who're you to question my loyalties anyway? Prime's gone, high-command's gone, there is no more War here! They left us all to rust, and now you wanna tell me I'm breaking some set of rules just by coming home?"_

Nightracer sighed, trying to walk fast enough that the guard behind her, the one doing all the talking, wouldn't think he had to bother jabbing her in the back with his weapon every time he wanted to emphasize a point. Arguing wouldn't do them any good. Like Blurr said, the command structure had crumbled, and that left bots to do what they felt like, how they felt like it.

"Yup." The second mech affirmed, happily whacking whatever retort Blurr might have had right out of him.

They were escorted quietly for a while, until the teal and charcoal femme locked optics on a small pool of life-En pouring from under the door at the end. The guards hadn't seen it yet, their optics not as well-trained as her own. She was guessing they were about seven levels up from the surface by now.

Hoping to distract her escort, she asked plaintively, "So... Where are you taking us?"

The four of them slowed down a little, "To the brig."

"Figured." She nodded understandingly, shrugging like she was too resigned to her fate to care. Somewhat odd for the brig to be above ground, but given it was a skyscraper... It wasn't like they were high security prisoners. She stole a glance up at her guard and saw his optics narrow with suspicion as he started to notice something wrong up ahead.

 **/On my mark./** She sent Blurr cryptically, hoping he'd get what she meant.

"Hey, Influx, you notice it smelling a bit weird down here?" The second mech asked, sounding mildly worried.

The first one, Influx, grunted in response, the gun-point pulling away from her back a fraction as he began to be distracted. Nightracer rolled her helm in anticipation of the fight to come, opening the comm. line just before there was a flash of blue and a couple muffled groans.

 **/... Mark...?/** She sent with a puzzled scowl, turning around to find both guards tied together with flex-chain. Both were unconscious, bearing no injuries signifying any sort of resistance whatsoever.

 _"Oh, did I do it too soon? I thought the helm-rolling-thing you just did was the signal, so: stun gun to the helm, and bang, two happily passed out guards in less than a nano."_ Blurr shrugged, grinning as he subspaced a compact stunner. _"Didn't mean to steal the show though, so if it'd make you feel better about not helping me at all, you can always just like kick one of 'em or punch 'em in the face or something."_

She allowed herself a slow blink as she processed his words, then shook her helm roughly and started jogging towards the leaking door. "Come on... They slowed us down and I think..."

The door swooshed open with a hiss and a chirp, dropping a heavily leaking, but still alive mech against her pedes. The rancid scent of fading lifeblood stung her olfactory sensors, mixed with the smell of burning circuitry, ruptured sparks, and cooling slag.

"... We're too late." Nightracer finished, her voice no more than a whisper as they stared at the carnage strewn before them.

Lumps of molten slag were heaped against the walls, barely identifiable as having once been Cybertronians. One of the frames was shriveled up as though his spark had turned into a black hole, while another was in so many pieces it would take the best forensics team decavorns to make helm or pedes of them.

Her tanks roiled at the sight, her spark feeling as though it were on fire. Coolant began to pool in her large ruby optics as her vents heaved, her engine catching on itself and hitching painfully.

Life-En dripped from the ceiling onto her shoulder, making her helm jerk up instantly, finding a sight almost more gruesome than what lay on the floor. It was as though the mechs were melted into it, but not really melted. More like, phased into it. Become physically intertwined with the alloys at a molecular level.

Literally every fiber of their beings had been shattered and forced back together around the ceiling. Limbs and body parts stuck out of the metal, grotesque expressions of unimaginable agony seared into both faces. Their life fluids dripped down from where the bodies connected with the ceiling.

"G...go..." The mech directly above her - the source of the fluids splashing down on her face - groaned weakly, causing her spark to momentarily freeze in alarm. His frame had gone such a deathly shade of gray, she could have sworn he was already offline, yet his optics shone an unnaturally bright, pure white light. "W...what you... _kkkzzzzz-_ seek... lies just... Beyond..."

As soon as he'd spoken, the mech's optics faded to the empty black of death, his frame dull and lifeless as though he'd never moved. Her tanks churned again and the femme doubled over and purged violently.

Six sparks faded for no reason at all.

Blurr was at her side instantly, holding her steady and preventing her from collapsing among the dead. His mouth was moving a mile a minute, but her audials failed to comprehend his words. She wrapped one hand over her throbbing t-cog, shuttering her optics to block out their faces. Instead, they only grew more vivid in her mind.

One thing she did manage to catch in the midst of his rambling was one, simple assurance that her spark longed to believe, yet could not.

 _This wasn't her fault._

She wanted to believe it. Primus knew she wanted to believe it. She told herself that it was Overlord's fault for ending their lives so pointlessly. That she had had no idea that the terminal would send him here. That there wasn't probably another massacre like this in the building she'd warped him to first.

Nightracer bit back a sob, only for it to mutate and tear out of her vocals in the form of a grieved shriek of rage. These bots should never have died. There was no reason for their sparks to be taken, and there was no reason that they should see the Well while Overlord lived on. There was no reason.

This was completely her fault.

There was nothing she could do to change that, and there was nothing she could do to help these bots. But Overlord would pay for what he had done here, and the countless other massacres he was responsible for in his lifetime.

She straightened resolutely, shoving Blurr aside and storming to the door the dead mech in the roof had indicated, paying no heed to the blue Autobot's high-speed warnings, ramblings, and queries.

Her twin gold rifles appeared in her clenched fists, though she later could not recall drawing them from her subspace. She casually twirled one around her servo, a dangerous light behind her optics that was not entirely sane. A small, grim smirk touched her hardened face-plates as she regarded the huge phase-sixer standing over the weapons with his back to her, his attention devoted to choosing another toy to play with.

Blurr fidgeted in the door, but after seeing her murderous expression, the mech wisely chose against following.

"Overlord." The teal and gray femme stated coldly, an aura of fury around her that made even the navy and white gladiator before her visibly shudder as he straightened and turned to face her. The crazed, gleeful grin across his face that so many deaths had given life to didn't even waver.

He held the weapon that they had come for in one hand, though as promised, it looked nothing like the blueprints they had been shown. Instead it stretched past his elbow, clamped to his upper forearm in a sleek hand-held cannon, its various deadly features shaped in an extravagant, fear-embuing manner, drawing extra attention to the weapon's most terrifying capabilities.

Ordinarily, the sight of such a weapon would have her shaking in her armor. However, all the sniper felt was rage. She sneered at him, unimpressed by the odds that stood against her so plainly.

"Am I supposed to be _afraid_ , Overlord? Am I supposed to bow at your feet and plead for my spark?" She began slowly circling, her hungry optics not leaving him for a moment. She could feel her logic and battle protocols taking over, locking out the majority of her emotional cortex as they had been programmed to do, yet she made no effort to stop them. "Because if that's what you were expecting, slayer, I'd suggest you reassess."

"You would fight _me_?" Overlord questioned, sounding amused. He leered, "You don't stand a chance. Nonetheless, I will take great pleasure in tearing your spark out before your very optics, abomination."

She simply smiled back, her battle protocols more in control than she was at this point, leaving her unfazed by his threats. They seemed small to her, insignificant compared to the wrath burning in her spark. No reply was necessary; her frame was already moving to give the answer that rang loudest in her mind.

She fired at will.

Life-En immediately began streaming from his two punctured optics, but his chestplate shielding his spark was only badly damaged. His ununtrium-plated spark casing had stopped the bullets from terminating him right then and there. As soon as she'd stopped shooting, she ducked and rolled, subspacing one rifle and springing up directly in front of the howling mech. Smacking him between his bleeding optics with the butt of her rifle, the femme snatched the new weapon from his shocked grasp and ran for her spark with Blurr close behind.

 _"You shot Overlord in the optics!"_ Blurr shouted as he chased after her, periodically tossing a glance over his shoulder at the infuriated, cursing phase-sixer that was chasing them firing missiles and swearing to slaughter them both. _"Wait, isn't he supposed to be like falling over dead or something right about now? I mean you put two in his helm and a bunch in his spark, so shouldn't he be less annoyed and more dying?"_

"He's a phase-sixer, point-one-percenter, and he's got a coat of ununtrium - the strongest, rarest metal in the known galaxy - over his skeleton, spark casing, and processor modules! What do you think?" Nightracer snapped back, her pedes pumping beneath her. Her spark was tight with fear, and her processors were only slightly relinquishing their grip on her.

Whirling around without stopping, the weapon fired seemingly of its own accord. Her optics lit up and her little smirk grew into a wide, wild grin. It was almost exactly like her own rifles, only so much better. In her hand perched a twin-barrel sniper rifle. When it fired, there was practically no recoil, and it felt as if she and the gun were a single entity. Whatever she thought, it did, and at the moment, that meant that the whole corridor in front of her exploded in a rich red flame, engulfing everything in its path.

She faced forward and kept running, not looking back at the destruction she'd just caused, though she had a feeling that Overlord had just taken a short cut to the next floor.

Everything she'd ever thought wrong with her rifles, this new one had done away with. Every flaw was perfected to a point she hadn't thought possible. Aesthetically, it was the epitome of military beauty. Her fangs glinted wickedly in the smoky light as she grinned, her optics bright with a sense of superiority. She could have the world.

Whatever she wanted; it could all be hers with a twitch of the trigger.

 _"Nightracer, what's wrong, what are you planning on doing? This is a really dangerous weapon, and I think its getting to your helm..."_ She hardly even noticed the blue mech beside her trying to get her attention back to their mission.

Trying to get her helm out of the battle.

He trailed off as she stopped running and turned back towards the wreckage where Overlord was crawling back up from the gaping hole in the floor, his navy and white armor singed, dented, and scratched. His optics were dark, their protective covering shattered and leaking life-En.

Yet behind those sightless holes, she saw a fury so intense she ought to have been running for her life. Instead, she laughed harshly, sashaying towards the mech.

Blurr sped back to where she was, not having slowed down fast enough, and jumped in front of her, shaking her shoulders hard enough that she couldn't keep her helm from following the whiplash motion.

 _"Race? Nightracer! C'mon, c'mon femme, we gotta get outta here before that guy-"_ His cerulean optics widened and a look of abject terror crossed his face, his already rapid speech doubling in speed, now nearly unintelligibly fast, _"Oh-sweet-Primus-please-don't-shoot-me! Idon'twannadie, pleasedon'tkillme... NIGHTRACER!"_

She jerked away suddenly, her crazed grin fading to confusion overlaid with fear. She glanced down and found that the weapon of mass destruction in her hand was firmly pressed into the mech's abdomen. She subspaced it in favor of her own rifles, which she held to her sides. Her ruby optics dimmed as she tried to recall how she'd gotten here, why she was trying to kill Blurr, why the whole corridor in front of them smelled like seared metal, and why Overlord was right behind Blurr with a giant sword-

The thought-line cut off and instinct took over. Nightracer leapt on top of the blue mech, shoving both of them aside right as the gladiator's sword collided with the floor where they'd stood only seconds before. In the blade's wake, the floor was sheared in two, leaving a gaping rip in the metal.

The Autobot's optics were dim, and she realized in hind-sight that she'd accidentally knocked his helm too roughly into the ground, rendering the mech unconscious in saving his life.

"Lovely." She muttered, working to ignore her attacker's threats and taunts.

Cartwheeling away from the blue Autobot, the sniper sprung off of her hands to land several meters down the hall, drawing Overlord's attention away from the dazed mech.

"Where are you, you little- AARGGH!" The mech roared as another of her sniper bullets embedded itself in his helm, leaving a leaky, smoky hole in the center of his forehelm. A large navy hand shot up to hold the wound, servos quickly scouting the damage before he charged at her with renewed hate, tracking her only by the sounds of her movements and voice. "I WILL _CRUSH_ YOU, INSOLENT CLONE!"

A shudder wracked her frame, and Nightracer winced as her t-cog attempted to transform her in an automatic urge to escape as quickly as possible. She doubled over with a groan, but kept on, sprinting to where Blurr lie inert, somehow dodging Overlord's missiles and sword strokes as she went.

She scooped up the Autobot with a grunt, vaguely wondering how a mech built so lightly could weigh so much. Nightracer staggered as the ground shook with her pursuer's heavy pede-falls, hissing as shrapnel from a stray missile cut into the back of pede, just above her knee-joint.

Honestly, if she'd been thinking, she should have left the blue mech. He only slowed her down.

Her vocalizers let out a fear-strangled shriek as Overlord's sword impaled itself in the wall, mere inches from her helm as she swung a corner.

She swore under her breath, skidding to a halt before she could crash into the dead-end wall in her way. Roof above, floor below, wall on one side, floor-to-ceiling window on the other side. As Overlord drew closer by the nano, his furious bellows reverberating through the building, Nightracer pulled out the other weapon. The weapon that offered her all the power she could ever hope for.

Desperation broke over and she turned to the window and shuttered her optics tight, clenching her armor as close to her frame as she could before charging the glass. She swiveled moments before breaking through, turning her dorsal plating to the glass and shielding the mech in her arms with her own body.

Air rushed past her, drowning out Overlord's enraged howls as his prey escaped him. Time seemed to slow and Nightracer briefly pondered the wisdom of her actions. What in the Pits of Kaon was she thinking?

The weapon in her hand fired a blast down at the ground, but she never consciously moved to do so. The people below screamed - or maybe that was her own voice? - but she paid it little attention.

She was going to die.

Maybe Primus would pity her unworthy spark and she - in spite of being a clone, or as Overlord so aptly said, and abomination - perhaps she would find the Well anyway. Or perhaps she would simply fade and disappear, and she would be to utterly ended to care that she had no place in the Well of Allsparks.

A twinge of renewed terror touched her spark as the sniper realized she could no longer see her arms wrapped around Blurr's unconscious frame. Nor could she see any part of herself.

Her helm tilted to the side and a faint smile graced her lips. Apparently, Swindle was wrong. The gun really did cloak its owner in the face of death.

Then time seemed to remember that it was supposed to be going faster than it was, and her processors remembered that she had audials. The world erupted into chaos. Pedestrians and other bystanders were screaming, while others sounded excited. Her optics flung open and she watched the skyscraper speed by her. Glass fell in a glittering, tinkling cascade of rainbow reflections all around her, mixed with drops of life-En that could only be hers.

Five stories above her, Nightracer could still hear Overlord cursing her existence as he no doubt stumbled about blindly, trying to find his way down. Six stories away now. Seven.

Strangely, she felt no pain. Not from her wounds, not from the collision with what she assumed was the glistening streets of Iacon at sunset.

The suns were so beautiful this cycle; filling the blazing sky with their radiance while the far away stars twinkled through the thin atmosphere. She blinked her dimming optics, trying to make them focus on the suns' setting. So beautiful.


	9. Damaged

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Damaged**

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 **Hello, everybody! This isn't up as fast as I would have liked, but real life - well, school mainly - has not exactly been cooperative lately. Fortunately, it looks like I'm going to hopefully be able to get my chapters up somewhat on time from here on!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers. And of course, our beloved Blurr - always a personal favorite of mine - will be talking crazy fast.**

 **Review Responses: _To tamersten - Thank you so much for your encouraging words! And yes, that last cliffhanger was... well, quite a cliffie. Leaving off with such suspense and feels though... I couldn't resist. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!_**

 ** _To Eyrmia - Well, I've got to say the inspiring of fellow authors is a two-way road, so thanks a ton for your amazing review. The tfwiki is pretty much one of the awesomest things ever in my opinion, and it has been a huge help to me in keeping my stories as near to canon as my muses allow... Anyhoo, enjoy this next chapter of fluffy-angsty fun!_**

 **I really appreciate every fav, follow, and review I get, so thank you all, and here's the next chapter!**

* * *

The sunset truly was gorgeous to behold, as far as last things to see before permanently splattering into a million pieces of dead clone went. Much better than the view she'd had last time she nearly offlined by jumping out a skyscraper window. Still wasn't entirely sure how she'd gotten out of that one alive.

If she were blunt, she wasn't sure how she got out of this one alive, except that moments before impact her arm wielding the new gun twisted painfully towards the ground and fired. She lay there on the ground, blinking up at the multicolored circuit bridges shining bright in the rapidly blackening sky. Blurr, still completely unconscious, was sprawled on top of her, face to the sky.

Nightracer sat up with a groan and rolling the blue mech off of her, leaving him face down in the same weird, neon orange gel that they were both covered in.

 _Self-preservative actions taken. Calculating further risk of harm to this unit..._

 _Direct risk: negligible. Indirect risk due to health of current host: very high._

Her optic ridges drew together in a confused fear, but she tried to ignore the smug, authoritative automated-mech-voice in her helm in favor of picking up the offline Autobot and dragging him and herself out of the extra shock absorbent gel that had saved their lives, and into a more secure place in the nearest alley.

 _Systems fully integrated with host._

 _Greetings, Nightracer: Mark II. This unit's designation is Primicerius. You are not a registered user for this unit._

 _Would you like to register for usership? Failure to register will result in self-preservative actions that may endanger, harm, or terminate the unregistered user._

She frowned again, instinctively thinking that registering sounded like a good idea, given the alternatives listed. Not yet decided, the femme's optics widened when the voice replied.

 _Registering for usership... Registration failed._

 _The unit Nightracer: Mark II is not recognized as a viable, sentient user. Clone unit Nightracer: Mark II will be terminated as soon as the unit Primicerius is charged to 100%. Estimated time to full charge: 0.94 orns._

 _Please feel free to enjoy the remainder of your existence, clone unit Nightracer: Mark II._

"Who are you?" The now-trembling femme whispered, reaching forward to gently set the newly-acquired weapon on the ground. It stuck to her hand, and she saw with a start that it had fused with the metal of her hand. Her spark pulse tripled and a wave of dread washed over her. She hoped Blurr would wake up soon so they could get out of Iacon before the blinded, infuriated Overlord stumbled across them.

 _This unit's project designation is Primicerius. Primicerius is an adaptive, multi-functional, artificial intelligence weapon, designed with cutting edge processor interface capabilities, and equipped with the galaxy's most highly advanced weapons' systems. Primicerius is programmed to preserve itself by any means necessary, excluding any means causing harm to the registered user. Restrictions do not apply to unregistered users._

It stated in response, its emptily toneless voice sounding only in her mind. Nightracer nudged Blurr gently, then more insistently when he didn't react in any way.

"Why do you want to kill me?"

 _Primicerius is an artificial intelligence, created and programmed to destroy. This unit does not possess emotions, nor does Primicerius desire any more than to adequately inform and serve the registered user. However, unregistered users are assumed to have malicious intent, and thus will be terminated for the safety of this device and the registered users._

She nodded minutely, her expression growing more concerned as she shook Blurr again, glancing around warily, her large ruby optics wide and wild like those of a hunted animal. "Why can't I disconnect from the weapon? Why can't I set you down?"

 _During the integration process, malicious intent was detected. Users with malicious intent cannot be allowed to continue._

"Wouldn't I be less likely to be malicious if I didn't have such a weapon of mass destruction fused to me?"

 _To ensure minimal endangering behavior, the termination of the offender is most efficient. Any damage caused prior to Primicerius' termination of the host is counted irrelevant in correlation to the amount that can be caused over one Cybertronian life-time._

"But I don't have malicious intents!" Nightracer practically screamed in exasperation.

 _This unit cannot verify the sincerity of this statement. Unregistered users who have been flagged for malicious intent are not to be trusted or heeded. Malicious intent is irreversible, and cannot be rectified over time. The clone unit Nightracer: Mark II will be terminated in approximately 0.94 orns._

Prodding the blue racer urgently one last time before giving up and sitting next to his unconscious frame, the teal and gray sniper looked over her wounds. Life-En oozed from countless cuts where glass had embedded itself in her protoform, but primarily the damage was superficial only. Everywhere that the neon orange gel had seeped into the scrapes felt like someone had taken a drill to her protoform.

The worst of the damage by far consisted of the large piece of shrapnel that had sliced into the back of her right thigh, severing a primary fuel line. She had hardly noticed it before, but she'd lost enough life-En from it that the protoform below the wound was tingly and numb, and she was beginning to feel somewhat off-balanced.

Now that her spark was calming down and her battle systems had released their hold on her, the day they'd just had left her exhausted, sore all over, and feeling like curling up in a ball and crying. She lifted her damaged pede up and twisted around to look at it at a better angle, hissing as the motion shot spikes of pain through the limb.

She saw the protruding shrapnel and gripped it firmly in her hand, putting her other hand in her mouth to bite down on rather than howling and giving away their position. Bracing herself as best as she could, the femme took a deep vent and ripped the shrapnel from her leg, biting down hard on her hand, which rather than helping, just made her want to scream more.

Perhaps with a klick's forethought, she might have used something that wasn't attached to her to bite. Yes, that would've been a whole lot smarter. Oh well. Nightracer vented raggedly and rummaged through her subspace for a mesh patch. She had gotten some from an abandoned medical facility a while ago. So with luck she would still have some.

Thinking she had what she wanted, the femme materialized a polishing cloth, a piece of glass, and a half-forged dagger. Any of those would have been great for biting down on instead of her hand, but none were the mesh patches she needed to keep herself from leaking out on the floor next to this unconscious Autobot who very likely had mesh patches in his subspace. She shook him again, not really expecting anything to come of the action.

He moaned and rolled over to face her, mumbling for Ironhide to leave him alone to sleep out his shift.

She nudged him insistently. "Blurr, get up. We need to get out of Iacon somehow, and we need to get this gun off of me before it terminates me in not quite an orn, and I still need Swindle's medic... even more now than before."

She watched her outstretched hand tremble from the fatigue, fear, and aches. Her t-cog felt as though the acid-coated dagger that had originally damaged it was still being wretched around in there.

Her voice grew weaker as she pleaded, "Please, Blurr... Please get up. I can't carry you, and I won't leave you here to be killed. I'm responsible for enough sparks. Please?"

The blue-toned mech's optics fluttered open reluctantly and he grunted, shoving himself up on one elbow and massaging his helm with his other hand. _"Eeeurgh. I've got a killer helm-ache here. Seriously femme, I'm glad to be alive and all, but next time you hero-lunge me out of death's way, could'ya not brain me in the-"_ Disgusted horror flashed over his face and he flicked a globule of orange shock absorbent goo off his servos, _"Bleck! What in the galaxy are you covered in? Scrap that, what in the galaxy am_ _ **I**_ _covered in?"_

Just as quickly, the disgust was replaced with concern, _"Forget the gloop, what on Cybertron did you do while I was out? You've got glass sticking outta your protoform like an angry fritz-spine! And your pede is spewing life-En... I have mesh patches, why didn't you just ask me?"_

Nightracer glanced down at her frame, chuckling at the imagery Blurr's first impression of her had placed in her mind. The need for medical attention overrode both amusement and exasperation though, so the femme dragged herself a few inches closer to the mech, reaching out for the patches.

Rather than giving her the patches, the mech pulled them out of his subspace and silently asked her permission before setting to work on stanching the flow of life-En from the back of her leg, just above her knee joint. She didn't argue, inwardly grateful for the help. It had been a while since anyone had offered to help her. A long while that extended far beyond her time on the run.

"H-how- ow! do we get back to your ship?" The sniper bit out, trying to distract herself from Blurr's work. Her vents were heaving unevenly. "T-transmat's out... what with... Huunnnggh... Overlord. Explosions... Would have attracted the DJD... too. Need to get... m-ow!-ving."

 _"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, you're not thinking about moving right now, we need to get you fixed up and we need to get rested and recovered before even thinking about going anywhere! Captain's orders!"_

She pulled in a sharp intake of air and bit down on her lip, hunching over and groaning from her engine. Slumping against the wall in relief as that wave of hurt passed, Blurr nodded to let her know he was finished with the patch. When the static left her vision, she shook her helm. "That's not how they work. No time to rest, no time to recover, no time to stop moving. Blurr, when you're on the List, you don't stop till you're dead, because if you do, you might as well be. 'Sides, who made you captain?"

 _"I made me captain, cause captains make the rules, and my first rule of captainhood is that I'm captain."_ The mech replied matter of factly, slipping her arm over his shoulder and hoisting her up. _"But if you're really worried about it, we can get you out of the open to spend the night."_

"Where?" She asked tiredly, letting the Autobot hold her up almost entirely. She swiped aside an error telling her to consume Energon to replace what she'd lost.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then he smiled almost grimly. _"I know a place, you're not gonna like it, but it's a place to stay, and the Cons won't bug us there."_

Pede in front of pede. Step after step. Just five more steps. Five more steps. She vented harshly, leaning heavily on Blurr. Stairs. Scrap, couldn't there be an elevator? Oh, she'd give just about anything for a good berth and some fuel.

She didn't look around, focusing on no more than each step in front of her. Blurr had said they were almost there. Her processors were getting foggy, and Primicerius, the AI gun that was going to kill her for being a clone, had almost cheerfully informed her that she needed to refuel because her wounds were taxing her frame too much, so it had to stop sapping her life force.

 _Primicerius is detecting dangerously low levels of Energon in the current host. If the clone unit Nightracer: Mark II wishes to live to the full extent of her remaining life before being terminated by Primicerius, refueling and obtaining medical attention would be advised._

"How nice. Thank you so much for that." Nightracer snarled sarcastically, drawing an odd glance from Blurr.

" _Uh… Did I do something to hurt you or something, or do we need to stop and rest for a bit or what do you need?"_ She tell from his pitying expression that he'd decided that she was delirious.

She grunted in response, attempting for a moment to hold herself up, then instead stumbling and ending up leaning even more heavily on him. Whatever her t-cog had done in that battle with Overlord had really messed her up inside. The t-cog hurt even more than it had when the original damage was inflicted. "How much farther?"

" _Let's see, I think it should just be around the corner… This guy owes me a favor, so he'll probably let us in, after all-"_

The sniper cut him off, "Wait. Did you just say 'probably'?" Her voice raised in volume as her exasperation did, "You've been dragging me for a whole hic to somewhere we'll _probably_ be let into?!"

Blurr gave her a sheepish shrug, inadvertently jostling her, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. He grimaced, _"Look I'm sorry, but when a mech can run a hic in less than a klick, it really doesn't seem so far! You need to rest, and I don't think you can make it to where we're going, especially since every time I twitch it causes you agony. We have to stop here."_

"WE CAN'T!" She roared at him, clutching her side with her free arm, her engine growling.

He was right, she couldn't do this. But they couldn't stop. If she stopped, she'd die. If she kept going, she wouldn't make it and she'd die. The worst part though was that even if she made it to wherever Blurr was taking them, she'd still die because of this stupid gun.

If it hadn't been her life that was the joke, the irony of the whole situation would have been hilarious. They went to get a gun to pay for a medic to heal her, and the same gun that was to be her savior was now to be her end. And here she'd thought she'd be sung into eternal rest by the DJD.

"We can't." Nightracer repeated brokenly, willing the tears in her optics not to fall.

The blue Autobot glanced around the empty alley, apparently to make sure no one had heard her outburst. His expression seemed to suggest that he was actually looking for someone to make her stop crying. Of course, he could also have been looking for an escape route so he could ditch the teary Decepticon clone that basically everyone wanted to kill.

She swatted away a stray tear with a rumble of her engine, scowling at the pink coolant on her hand. Another drop rolled down in its place and she brushed it away with the same roughness. Blurr took hold of her wrist gently before she could continue her mad dashing away of the tears that wouldn't stop coming.

" _Um…"_ He mumbled awkwardly, clearly not having thought of anything to actually say. His optics darted around again, making her choke down another sob. His expression turned desperate and he started over, _"Hey… Hey, shh… It's gonna be alright…"_

The femme averted her teary gaze, wincing as a shudder wracked her frame. She pulled her wrist away and hugged herself forlornly, demanding, "How? How, Blurr? You should run away while you still can. Leave me here to die before you get dragged down to share my fate."

Her tone and her words rang harsh in her audials, and she heard the blue Autobot's engine hitch at the sting of them. Her scarlet optics however, shone with the despair that gripped her as she tried to think of some way out of this mess if he took her up on it.

 _"Don't'cha think it's kind of too late for that by now, I mean I already know they're after you, and people know I know, so even if I left you here, they'd still prob'ly come after me to find out where you are."_

She regarded him with cold optics, her tone completely flat, "Was that supposed to be encouraging? Like, gee, she's crying and leaking out and feels like total slag already, why don't I tell her she's already signed my death warrant!"

The femme paused to set her mind down for a good angry rant - after all, making a bot mad at you was one of the best ways she knew of to part. Break any ties that may have accidentally formed, and voila, she had one more ache that would never go away, and they had their sparks intact.

Before she could begin the spiel she now had played out in her mind, she vaguely registered that Blurr had started moving and then she found herself scooped off her feet, his arms under her back and knees. _"No offense, but I'm gonna declare you judgementally impaired from extensive loss of Energon, and I'm gonna ignore the fact that you want me to leave you here, because as an Autobot, its my duty to protect innocent people, and whether you believe it or not, I think you fit that category, and you're in no shape to argue, so if you want you can always scream at me later, when you're not leaking like a busted faucet."_

Before she could object, the alleys around her were zipping by in a drab blur of shadows and rust. As much as she hated to admit it, the mech was right: she was in no shape to argue or resist. She was damaged… in more ways than she particularly cared to list.

Within moments she and Blurr were standing – or rather, Blurr was standing with her still in his arms – in front of a rusty old mech who was distinctly not pleased to meet them.

"No, ya can't come inta my house, and ya can't stay fer supper, and ya could's much as buy me the 'ole black moon an' ya still woun't be welcome. So scram, Speedy."

Blurr glanced down at the femme in his arms, noting with an uneasy frown that her scarlet optics were rapidly dimming and her frame was limp. _"C'mon mech, she's hurt and leaking badly, and she's going to die if she doesn't get some rest and Energon and medical care, and you're the only bot I know in this sector, and I know I'm not welcome, 'cause of how I left, but please, this is a life or death matter, and I swear you won't even know that I'm here and we'll leave as soon as we can, just please don't let her die, I made a promise!"_

"Ya shoun'ta made promises ya coun't keep then, boy." The red mech replied coldly, his arms crossed stubbornly, though he tossed a pitying look towards Nightracer.

The blue Autobot looked down, his expression hurt and desperate, but understanding. He bowed his helm to the red mech and started to leave right as the older mech's resolve apparently failed.

"Aww, slaggit, Blurr…" The mech grumbled, putting a restraining hand on Blurr's shoulder, "Pit, what was ah thinkin'? Ah gave up on the war, not havin' a spark. Bring 'er in an' set 'er down on the berth in the back, ah'll see what ah can't do ta help 'er out."

" _Ironhide, you are the awesomest guardian I've ever had the honor of being hated by!"_ The blue speedster hollered over his shoulder as he flew through the door and into the back room, setting her down carefully on the berth.

Nightracer moaned quietly as she was set down, her spark fluttering weakly in its chamber. She forced her optics to reboot and stared at Blurr through them, fear shining in her expression. Her spark felt… strange. Frail and leaden in her chest, pulsing sporadically. Errors were running over her HUD too fast for her tired processors to understand.

 _Primicerius has detected an irregularity in the clone unit Nightra…_ The foreign voice in her helm seemed to trail off as her lethargic mind lost interest and ignored it along with the error messages. She just wanted to sleep. Sleep for a thousand vorns, at peace from reality.

"Blurr…?" She croaked, wondering why everything was suddenly so hard. She had no serious injuries, at least, none that would be life-threatening. But her spark chamber felt icy and her t-cog was burning up, enough so that she could feel the heat radiating from her abdomen. "Something's… something's wrong… with my spark… P-please, I… I don't want to die…"

She felt her systems involuntarily slipping into stasis lock, and her efforts to stay it off were futile. The sniper raised a hand up towards Blurr, as if should she manage to reach him, he would somehow be able to anchor her to life and reality. Too weak to reach, the femme let out a despondent little sigh, not even finding the will to be angry at her graying frame for failing her.

Far, far away, a gentle, worried voice – she almost didn't recognize it, slowed down to a normal speed – stuttered, "I-It's gonna be alright, Race… W-we can still… fix this. I-I… I promise…"

His voice wavered so much… She couldn't help but doubt him.

" _Scrap!"_ He shouted, landing a rapid stream of punches into the wall, _"Ironhide, call a medic, she's fading!"_

The blue racer darted into the next room and returned astro-seconds later with a cube of Energon, which he felt like just shoving down her throat, but logic stopped him. She needed to take it in slowly enough for her tanks to process it. What she really needed was a medic and an Energon drip, but he didn't have either, so this was going to have to work, except he knew it wouldn't be fast enough.

Blurr tilted the unconscious femme's mouth open and dribbled a bit of the fuel into her mouth, sighing in relief as even in stasis, her systems were still functional enough to accept it. He poured in a little more, and continued to do so until the cube was gone, just giving her a sip at a time. His vibrating servos had made him spill at least a quarter of the cube on her face and neck, but her coloring was getting better, so he didn't particularly care. After all, he had told her that she could scream at him all she wanted once she was recovered.

If she recovered.

" _Shut up shut up shut up, she's gonna live, of course she's gonna live, she can't die cause I promised her she wouldn't, and if she did, I'd be a liar."_ He scowled, refilling the Energon cube and bringing it back, setting it on the bed stand, along with a bowl of coolant and cloths. He soaked several of the cloths in coolant and laid them out over her t-cog, which was overheating far beyond what he figured was healthy.

" _Besides,"_ He continued rambling to himself, for no other reason than that his thoughts were too fast to process and needed to be expelled in some way, _"Her coloring is getting better, even if she's still leaking and overheating and condensation is pooling on her armor cause she's overheating so bad, and oh scrap I need to get her cooling off, cause she's unnaturally feverish and is gonna fry her systems…"_

Ironhide rushed in just then with a red and white bot whose paint job practically screamed medic. As soon as the newcomer caught sight of Nightracer, he shoved Blurr aside and ripped open his tool kit, running a rapid scan on the femme in the process.

"You're my assistant." The medic ordered Blurr gently, quickly unclasping Nightracer's abdominal armor and proto-plating, "Laser scalpel."

Blurr, without question or hesitation, snatched up the item requested and gave it to the medic, understandably surprising the mech with his speed. The medic skillfully and quickly sliced a tidy incision in the femme's protoform directly above the t-cog and pinning it back to give him room to work, simultaneously injecting a syringe full of something directly into her powerlines.

"Clamps, magnetic stylus." The medic took a moment to further examine Nightracer's internals and took a sharp vent. "Spark monitor."

 **One Joor Later.**

Blurr and the medic came out of the berthroom and slumped into Ironhide's sitting lounge, both visibly exhausted. The speedster was abnormally quiet with the trillions of half-finished thoughts swirling through his processors. His cerulean optics were wide and minutely blank, glassed over like he'd never left the berthroom turned surgical bay.

After the two of them simply sitting there, staring forward in silence, Ironhide finally broke the stillness, "So… the femme gonna make it?"

The medic nodded wearily, his tone nonetheless optimistic and relatively cheerful, "Yes, our patient is stable for now, and it looks like she's going to pull through just fine." He went on to explain, "Her t-cog is completely out of commission now, and I don't have the resources to replace it, but I've disabled it so it won't cause any more problems. It looks like she tried to transform with a burnt out cog and when it tried to transform her, the cog pinched one of the primary fuel lines to the spark. The added strain from her other wounds and her extensive loss of life-En resulted in her spark's fuel supply dropping to almost nothing, which sent her into stasis as her spark went into shock."

The red and white medic tilted his masked helm at Blurr, holding out his hand, "I'm First Aid, by the way."

Blurr blinked at the extended hand before shaking it, taking care to do so at what other bots would consider a 'normal' pace. _"I'm Blurr, apparently the least capable friend alive, since I basically spent the day being passed out while my prisoner-crewmate-fellow-outcast-ally got beat up and thrown out a window seven stories up by Overlord."_

"She got thrown out a window? By Overlord?" First Aid repeated disbelievingly, his blue visor dimming as he processed that, "How are either of you still..."

He shrugged, tossing a stray glance to the door behind which Nightracer lay in medical stasis. _"She sorta went psycho-sniper on him and shot out his optics, so he couldn't see so well, but he wasn't too happy about that, so he threw her through a window, and apparently she was carrying my unconscious frame for a good portion of that, so I really don't know what exactly happened, or how we didn't get splattered into a zillion pieces, except that we were covered in a weird orange goo when I came to, a block away from where we'd been when I passed out."_

"She's lucky to be alive." The mech said quietly, watching the door to where she lay resting with a concerned frown, almost whispering as though speaking to himself, "Her spark can't take the amounts of strain she's putting it to."

 _"What do you mean her spark can't take it, what's wrong with her spark? She never said anything about having any spark disorders or anomalies, so why-"_

First Aid's expression was hard to read behind both mask and visor, but the blue band over his optics seemed to show some sort of inner conflict. "I-I shouldn't tell you. It's a matter of medical confidentiality."

Blurr glared at the boxy bot's soft, apologetic tone. _"What's the point of being a medic if she hurts herself or gets herself killed because no one knew how to help because her medical confidentiality was so cheerily intact that her life couldn't be?!"_

The bot's optic ridges furrowed in distress as he was torn between his responsibility to the health and safety of his patient and not violating the non-optional trust placed in him. "Well, technically... Because of the nature of it, it would be beneficial for those closest to her to be aware of her... unique situation..."

The blue speedster glanced at Ironhide briefly and the red mech grumbled something about his charge always thinking he could just zip in and take over as he left to go do whatever it was the old mech did now that he'd given up on the war. Ironhide was one of the last mechs Blurr would've expected to quit, but when Cybertron went dark, a lot of bots changed. A lot of bots gave up on a lot of things, for better or for worse.

First Aid sighed, still plainly unsatisfied with his self-justifications. At the urging nod from Blurr, he started explaining, "Her spark is... not like most. Its small and badly traumatized, making it weaker and somewhat accident-prone. The injury that we just spent a joor fixing is a good example of that, because any other spark would have been sufficiently sustained by the other fuel lines."

He tugged at his servos for a klick before absently setting himself to dealing with Blurr's various damages as he spoke, "Truthfully? I have no idea how she exists. What's been done to her - to _make_ her - shouldn't even be possible. Her spark is... is a shard. One piece to a greater whole. I don't know who would have done it or why, but her spark has been forcefully shattered into... Primus knows how many pieces."

The two Autobots sat in a stunned, thoughtful silence, both wearing equally sickened, curious, and pensive expressions. Blurr fidgeted as the red and white medic worked on the numerous unimportant injuries he'd sustained. First Aid knocked a medical spanner off the sofa and muttered an apology as he picked it up, giving it a little pat as he set back down on a safer perch.

Blurr let out an overwhelmed sigh, his processors spitting out a million thoughts a second, faster even than he could run. The only reason he wasn't talking as fast as he was currently thinking was because he was too shocked to do much more than sit and fidget.

The very thought that someone would go into someone else's spark - the core of who they were - and purposefully break it... was horrifying. No spark should have been able to withstand that, much less continue on as a sane being. Unless everything that that spark originally was had been shattered along with it, if the trauma had been so great that the spark chose to forget everything just to try to lessen the pain of being torn apart.

But what sort of a twisted, sparkless killer would have done such a thing? What did they hope to accomplish by it? Did Nightracer even realize what had been done to her, or had they somehow made her forget entirely that she had once been a whole?

He let out another shaky vent, still trying to wrap his helm around the concept. She was a shattered spark. A piece of a single person that was no more. Another broken reminder of just how far Cybertronians as a race had fallen.

Whether this Decepticon femme believed it or not, she needed help. She couldn't go on fighting like this on her own; one femme against the universe. Which was - probably far easier said than done - why he wasn't going to let her.


	10. Dreams and Delusions

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Dreams and Delusions**

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 **Merry Christmas!**

 **Thank you one and all for the favs and follows! And everyone that read, thank you all as well! Not gonna give out spoilers folks, but this chapter was unbelievably fun to write. So many feels. I definitely think you'll enjoy this one!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers (sadly), and my amazing sister/beta enmused is as amazing as ever!**

 **Review Responses:** _ **To Eyrmia:**_ **_I know, right? Ironhide and First Aid are personal favorites of mine, so I just couldn't resist the chance to bring them into this story. This chapter is going to send the feels gauge through the roof: you've been warned. Thank you for reviewing, and enjoy the ride!_**

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 _She was running, running like her spark depended on it. Which it did. Nothing new or out of the ordinary there. What was new was the fear in her spark and the life-En on her hands. Figuratively of course, she was a sniper after all._

 _Nightracer shuddered, her engine letting out a low keen as she stumbled on, suddenly feeling as though all of her energy had been drained from her frame. Her spark pulse was weak and fluttery._

" _Nightracer, you are mine. You are my clone, my creation. And you are defective. Come home to me, little clone."_

 _The giant purple scientist stared down at her coldly, his single ruby optic devoid of any emotion. His massive cannon hung at his side, but his one hand reached out for her possessively, like a toy maker grasping for the one broken toy whose only use was for spare parts._

" _Come home, little clone." The mech repeated, his empty tone making her shudder to her very core. Her spark shivered, probing the walls of its chamber as though it were searching for something lost. If the mech would only show some emotion, any emotion-! But the icy void radiated from him like it would consume all in its path, "You remained sane for so much longer than the others… However, this experiment has come to an end."_

 _The teal and charcoal femme looked up at the long-since deceased femme suspended in a greenish liquid. The battle mask, shoulder shields, build, rang so familiar, her spark clenched in agony, but her processor could think of no explanation. Five other frames hung in the same plexi-glass tanks on either side of the first, each the all too well known shade of gray. A seventh tank at the end of the line held no corpse, but the preservative liquid was prepared._

" _Commencing experiment termination... Now."_

Nightracer screamed.

Her optics were shut, but she bolted upright, hit her helm on something warm and steady and crumpled in that something's arms. Hands rubbed her back soothingly until her vents stopped choking on each intake, then lowered her down gently to the berth.

A calming noise of… noise… filled her tired audios, but she just felt all light and floaty in the helm, so beyond acknowledging that there was noise, she couldn't much process. She knew the voice, and the voice had never hurt her though, so she relaxed. Her hand snaked over and she poked the source of the voice softly.

"Poke." She mumbled, feeling her processors slowing down. The noise trailed off, sounding a bit surprised. The femme giggled weakly, feeling a servo touch the crest of her helm tenderly. The voice slowed enough for her to understand.

"Poke."

He cocked his helm at the once again unconscious femme, drawing his hand back to his lap. His optics ridges drew together in consternation and he vented. Why had he just done that? Ah, who cares? Humor the drugged-up 'Con.

Ironhide would laugh at him. He would tell him he'd let a 'Con runaway get to his spark with no effort on her part at all. To which Blurr would reply that Ironhide was an old bot with rust in his processors, go have a highgrade and leave him alone.

These contemplations were cut off by a soft cough of First Aid making his presence known, "Recharge fluxes?"

" _I think so, I'm really not sure though, cause she just sort of screamed, bolted upright – yes, I know, don't yell at me, there wasn't anything I could do cause it's the middle of the night cycle and I fell asleep on watch –"_ Blurr explained rapidly, _"But anyway, she bolted upright and I calmed her down and made her lay back down and she had a bout of delirium and passed out."_

First Aid checked over Nightracer's welds and wounds, and after a few minor adjustments, let her be. "It isn't at all unusual for a Decepticon to fight medically-induced stasis, and sedatives are nearly forty percent less effective on them. Unfortunately, that means that while I've already taken the liberty of giving her the maximum dose of sedatives, recharge fluxes are likely going to be a problem for her."

The blue racer regarded the femme in question with pitying optics. If she really was on the DJD's List, then he could only imagine what sort of fluxes she might be dealing with. Especially with her spark shattered, which was traumatizing just to think about, much less live through.

" _You mean there's no way we could help her out, or keep the fluxes at bay or something? Some miracle drug for undisturbed rest in your magic-medic kit?"_

The red and white bot shook his helm sadly. "Sorry. The best remedy I know of is keeping the patient in the presence of family and loved ones."

Blurr raised an optic ridge, looking down at her contemplatively. His engine made a disappointed rumble, _"… I'm not sure she even really has any anymore, Aid."_

Even though the mech wore both a visor and a mask, Blurr distinctly got the feeling that the square little medic was smiling at him like he knew a secret. "Just stay with her, Blurr. It seems to be helping.

Once he was content with his patient's state, First Aid left the room and shook his helm gently, smirking at the blue racer standing vigil over her. Bots never could see things the way they really were in this sort of situation.

It was rather amusing to observe from his standpoint.

Ironhide crossed his arms and quirked an optic ridge at him. He lowered his mask and smiled back, that same, sad little smile that he always wore. It was after all the reason for the mask. Because with all of the loss and war and death – Primus knew he'd lost a lot – what did he have left to smile about? He could still help bots though, and that's what kept him going. As long as there were bots in need of help, who was he to give up on them?

"The femme's condition is still stable, Blurr is watching over her with great care, and I believe she will be in good hands. I'll stay for another rotation or two – I expect she'll wake by then – and then I'll move on."

The old red warrior chuckled, "The kid doesn't reckon she's got loved ones, eh?"

First Aid's visor twinkled, but he simply replied, "As I said, I believe she's in good hands."

He sat down on the couch and took a moment to put his med-kit back in order, frowning as the older mech coughed up a ventful of rust. Automatically his visor shifted to medical use and he ran a deep scan on the mech, but the results came up exactly as he'd expected.

"I can fix that, you know." He always offered. As a medic through and through, he couldn't not offer. But he already knew what the response would be.

"Nah, s'just a little cough, Aid. Ah'll live." Ironhide grunted stubbornly, coughing some more and gulping down a bit of Energon – highgrade, if his scans were to be trusted. Which of course they were.

His engine whined softly at the damage he was watching happen, knowing that he could fix it all with a little serum and a short plan to help him stop. "That isn't good for your systems, Ironhide. I can help, really, I can."

The warrior plopped himself down on the couch beside the medic, clearing his vents with a rattle. He acted as though he hadn't even heard First Aid. Not that that was surprising.

"You're as stubborn as a Nebulon mule." He informed Ironhide, his tone not even the slightest bit sharp or stinging. It was just a statement of fact, as long standing as this argument.

"Blurr's a good kid." Ironhide said quietly, nodding to himself and staring at the door to his berthroom where the racer and the 'Con were. "'E went through a bit of a phase, all high an' mighty. Was an arrogant lil aft, really. Me an' Chromia – bless her spark – went an' told 'im ta take care of 'imself, if 'e thought 'e was all that."

First Aid sighed softly, listening to the mech's story. It was important to let the mech talk, especially when he was in the mood for it. The fact that he'd even mentioned his terminated sparkmate was more than he'd done in a vorn. She offlined a vorn before Cybertron went dark. The two losses combined broke the mech.

Ironhide; the weapon's specialist with the strength of ten bots and the fearlessness and confidence of a mech with everything to fight for. That was the Ironhide First Aid had first met, back in the early days of the war. That was the Ironhide that had helped him live through the termination of his entire gestalt. He'd tried to do the same for the mech when Chromia was killed.

Apparently he'd failed at that so far, but he refused to give up on a patient, and that included Ironhide.

"We never thought 'e'd actually up and out. Never really meant to run 'im off, but he'd crossed one too many lines. We'da been bad caretakers if we hadn'ta put our foot down an' made 'is bound'ries clear." Ironhide went on, recounting Blurr's life story to him again.

First Aid had heard the story multiple times. The red mech would talk about him like he was their own creation, with such longing for him to come home. He acted all tough, treated Blurr like he didn't want anything to do with him, but the medic knew better. He was in better spirits since his charge's return than he had been since Cybertron went dark.

"'E got famous out there. 'Fastest mech alive' they called him. Chromia was so proud of 'im. Kinda wished he'd gone inta somethin' more aggressive, but proud of 'im." His voice was shaky and his hands trembled as he stared down at the highgrade bottle he was holding. "She'da been furious with 'im right now, ya know. She'da yelled at him and giv'n 'im swats like 'e were a sparkling, an' when she'd blown off all the vorns of worryin' 'bout 'im, she'da hugged 'im close like she woun't ever let 'im go again. An' Ah woulda been right beside 'er all the way. Jus' like old times."

He smiled his usual smile at the red mech, putting a hand on his shoulder, just to let him know he was still here and still listening. Pink coolant shimmered in the old, spark-torn bot's blue optics and he coughed, tilting the bottle in his hands. "She'da wanted me ta move on. Ta keep on keepin' on, jus' like Ah always used ta tell 'er to."

The medic tried not to get his hopes up, but this was so close. It looked like Ironhide was finally going to let him help. Maybe Blurr coming back was just the kick the mech had needed. He didn't dare say anything, lest he inadvertently break the tiny bridge of progress.

Ironhide gave the bottle one last wistful glance and tossed it to First Aid, who caught it nimbly and put it in his subspace compartment. "Yer right, Aid. Ah shoulda listened ta ya from the start. That slag ain't gonna bring her back, an' it ain't gonna revive Cybertron either."

First Aid nodded his helm gently in agreement. "… She would be proud of you, right now."

"Yeah." The other mech laughed softly, "After tellin' me off fer not doin' it sooner."

He smirked, knowing the mech's sparkmate well enough to know just how true that was.

"We thought 'e was dead, when the War broke out proper an' everythin' went to the Pits. But now 'e isn't. Ah'd call it a gift from Primus, but ah don't know what ta do with the mech." Ironhide hummed regretfully, "Mech thinks Ah hate 'im. Thinks tha's why we told 'im to leave."

"The War changed everyone, Ironhide." First Aid said quietly, the pain in his own spark growing as his thoughts wandered, "I think you both might be more forgiving than you might think."

Nightracer stirred slightly, her processors still blissfully muddled with the excessive quantities of sedatives flowing through her systems. She moaned and opened her optics, blinking blearily at the blue lump that was looking down at her. Her optics were having difficulties focusing, but they finally focused enough to make out Blurr's fuzzy features.

"Heyo, Cap'n Blurry…" She mumbled, giggling like she'd just told a hilarious joke. "Cause, cause… Ooh. Sparklies. Stop moving, Blurry."

The fuzzy blue lump that she knew was Blurr laughed quietly, looking over her with concerned optics. "I'm not moving."

"O-oh. Okay." She said, slightly confused, but deciding to just go with it. Her lips curved into a pout, her optics ridges drawing together into a plaintive frown. "Talking all slowy-like, Blurry…"

" _Would it be better if I talked at my usual speeds, cause I'd really rather do that, but I figured with the sedatives you wouldn't be able to process what I'm saying-"_

The femme groaned, shakily raising a hand and poking his face to make him stop, her helm pounding in the effort of trying to understand. Basically what she'd just heard was along the lines, "Wubbiebeftuspeeclyyfiggediveoontessying." Which of course explained everything, ever.

"Ugh… Too many wordses, all stringy… uh…" She struggled to make her mouth do what she wanted it to, waving her servos in the air weakly to explain her point, "Uh, yeah. We like slowy-like."

"It's okay, Race. Slowy-like is fine." His voice was somewhat strained, like it hurt him to talk that way and he was convincing himself as much her. She just giggled again, not noticing the tension in his tone. "How are you feeling?"

Nightracer attempted at a serious face, but was too busy laughing faintly to herself to pull it off. "All woozy in the helm, Blurry. Mmm… You feely?"

He smiled down at her, "I'm fine. Just glad my favorite prisoner isn't dead."

She gave him a coy smile, "Fav'rite? Da's cool…" Her expression turned sad, "Still pris'ner… Eh, Deeezhaydeeze gonna killlll you. Needa lee'me alone."

Blurr stroked her helm with the back of his hand, which made her engine let out a sad little purr as she leaned into the touch. "The DJD isn't going to lay a servo on you, I swear it on my spark. You just worry about recovering, okay?"

The sniper moaned, shaking her helm stubbornly, her helm nodding and jerking as her systems tried vainly to fight the sedation, "Nnnnooo. Y'needa lee'me alone. Deezzzhaaydee… Gonna _kkiiilllll_ you! Gotta keep… Keep runnnnning."

"Shhh." Blurr replied quietly, frowning at her determination even in the state she was in. She shouldn't even be awake, much less even half as coherent as she was being right now. First Aid had to have given her enough sedatives to keep her out of it for an orn. He kept stroking her helm, since it seemed to be making her calm down and drift back into recharge. "Sshhh, just go back to sleep, Race. Don't you worry about them, you're safe here."

His spark twinged with guilt as she whimpered, fighting sleep like she feared it as much as the DJD. She grabbed his wrist with surprising strength considering how drugged she was, pushing him away and shaking her helm, "Nnnoo! No! C-can't sleeep… Nnnneed to keep runninnng. Sstop when… dead…"

He repressed a whine of his own engine, gently extracting his hand from her grasp. She'd been through so much; she was terrified of living almost as much as she was of dying. He made his engine emit a low, calming purr, watching it lull the unwilling femme into recharge.

Her large ruby optics blinked owlishly at him and a small smile graced her lips. She sighed softly, her tone sleepily scolding in a way that reminded him of Chromia, "Mmm… You needa fuel'n'charge… G'way, Blurry…"

He smiled at the now-sleeping femme. "Sorry, Race… I made a promise."

 **Two Rotations Later**

Ironhide stepped into the berth room where Blurr and his femme were, two cubes of Energon in hand. "Mornin' Blurr. Ah brought some Energon fer you an' the little lady…"

Trailing off as he noticed how the blue mech was sprawled out on his chair beside the berth, mouth slightly open and one hand resting on the berth just a short distance from the femme's pillow, Ironhide smirked, huffing in amusement. He set the cubes down on his nightstand and clapped a hand on Blurr's shoulder.

"It's good ta see ya again, Blurr." He sighed heavily, his chat with First Aid having stirred up memories he had avoided for vorns. "It's good ta see ya again."

The red mech turned now to look at the teal and charcoal Decepticon femme that lay recharging. Her features would have been pretty, if not for the pained grimace twisting her face. Her hands were clenched into tight fists, and her frame jerked convulsively every now and then, her engine letting out pitiful whimpers.

Ironhide winced, turning back to Blurr. He shook his charge roughly, "Hey. Hey, mech. Get up. Get up, mech, yer femme's got the fluxes again. Pit, mech, Ah can't help 'er, she don't even know me, she'd just freak. Get up!"

His charge shifted, mumbling something about promises to keep and miles before sleep. He renewed his shaking of the mech, "Blurr! Wake up!"

Finally, Ironhide touched the horizontal streamlined spike on the top of the mech's helm, flexing it slightly and allowing to spring back and forth with a twang. All of a sudden the blue mech leapt to his pedes, flailing his arms and yelling, _"Argh! Ironhide, how many times do I have to tell you not to bounce my helm fin!?"_

An astrosecond later Nightracer let out a sleep muffled wail, which made Blurr instantly forget that he was yelling at his guardian. He sped over to her side, his whining engine nonetheless letting out a deep calming rumble that seemed to sooth the nightmare-plagued femme. The red guardian mech huffed, impressed by his charge's skill.

Chromia had always been the one to help the little guy when he had a bout of the fluxes. She had enough experience with them herself that she'd known just what to say to make it better. Him? Nah. He got the fluxes and the way he fixed it was to go out and shoot things. Not really the best of coping methods to teach a discretionally lacking third-frame sparkling.

" _Hey, Race. It's okay. It's okay, you're safe here, no one can hurt you here. See? My guardian's here, ready to scrap anyone who lays so much as a servo into this building, and we've got the best medic on Cybertron just in the next room over. And, pit, if all else fails, I can run you straight back to our ship where no one can ever find you."_ Blurr said quietly, his voice smooth and confident. His guardian felt a rush of warmth through his spark at the confidence placed in him. _"Yeah, you're safe here, I promise."_

The red mech smiled fondly at his charge, now all grown up and taking care of himself and others just like a true Autobot. He'd turned out alright, all things considered. Ironhide watched the Decepticon femme's servos reach out just so that her and Blurr's servo-tips could touch. The femme sighed contentedly and shifted on the berth, falling back into a peaceful recharge.

Ironhide slipped out of the room, sitting down on the sofa with a heavy sigh. A 'Con. Of course it would have to have been a 'Con. Of all the femmes in the wide, starry yonder fawning over 'the fastest mech alive'. Ah, Chromia would have loved it. She would have harassed both mech and femme over it until they were so embarrassed and in denial that they wouldn't even walk on the same side of the street.

Which of course would have been his mischievous sparkmate's plan all along.

And he was probably just going to sit here on his sofa and feign ignorance. Blurr could take care of himself and what he chose to do was his own set of problems. Who knew? Maybe he'd make a 'Bot out of her yet. If not, it was no big deal and the speedster was smart enough to keep himself out of trouble. Or at least get himself out of it after the fact.

" _Whew."_ The couch shook as the afore thought of speedster flopped down with an exhausted, exaggerated exhalation. _"She's asleep properly now, still, again, whatever. I think she's getting better, cause I didn't have to call the little white and red guy to redo her welds after her fit, which means she's healing up I hope. She's gonna blow my brains out with that fancy new gun once she finds out how long she's been here."_

"Why's that?" Ironhide questioned, his suspicions spiking. Decepticon femme terrified of staying in one place. Always on the run she'd said. Can't ever stop running. He connected the dots to the little puzzle and shuddered, hoping to the Allspark he was wrong.

Blurr's optics darted around nervously, and he chuckled, shrugging lightly and brushing off the question like he usually would, but his voice was a bit unsteady, _"Oh, you know, the usual messed up fugitive Decepticon reasons, made her boss mad, has a couple a bots tracking her off and on now. No big."_

"No big, eh?" He commented, putting on his best unimpressed caretaker face.

His charge nodded, the action just a brief blur of his helm, making the older mech's optics struggle to process the speeds.

The two of them sat in uncomfortable silence. Just guardian and charge and a tidy abyss of time between them. Slag, Ironhide thought, rubbing the back of his helm awkwardly, too many vorns had passed, he didn't have a clue how to talk to his own ward.

" _So… I heard about what happened."_ Blurr said solemnly, looking even guiltier than before, and more than a little regretful, _"To Chromia, I mean… I meant to come home before- but with the War and the missions and the errands for the Prime, I didn't. I should've come back and I wanted to come back, but no one could take my place and it was during the assault on Iacon and I couldn't get back and I'm so sorry, I wanted to come back, I swear I tried to come back but-"_

Coolant shone in both of their optics, but Ironhide resolved to be strong for his charge. He needed a strong guardian right now, to comfort him and tell him it was alright, that he wasn't to blame. He hugged the teary mech fiercely, drawing Blurr into his lap just as though he was still the youngling he was so many decavorns ago. "It's alright, mech. It ain't yer fault. It wasn't nobody's fault, really, it's just part o' bein' in a war."

" _It doesn't make it feel any better."_

His own engine whined quietly in sync with his ward's but he rocked him in his lap all the more fiercely. "No… No, it dunn't. It still makes me wanna smash bots' helms in, makes me wanna rip out their sparks and shove 'em down their throats till it makes 'er come back to us. But Primus don't work that way, an' fillin' up the Well cause we're mad ain't gonna do anything 'cept make us feel like slag."

Ironhide took in a shaky vent, pulling Blurr closer to his spark, just to reassure himself that he still had something left. Something left of her, in the mech that they'd raised. "But she's in the Well now, and we can find peace in knowin' that one day, when our time comes, we'll get ta spend the rest o' ferever wi' 'er. An' don't you worry 'bout not bein' here, cause you were out there helpin' bots, an' Ah think she'da liked it better that way, than if ya'd stopped doing yer duty to our people just ta sit aroun' an' feel bad. She'da wanted us both out there kickin' Decepticon cans for 'er."

Blurr let himself be cradled in the big red mech's arms, crying unashamedly into his chest-plates. He sniffed, wiping his optics and pulling away after about a breem. At last the mech asked quietly, _"Do you think she forgave me? For leaving and not ever coming back?"_

"Aww, mechling, we never meant fer you ta leave at all." He stared up at the ceiling for a bit in silence. "'Course we forgave you. We all made mistakes through that, an' we both knew that. We messed up, an' we lost you cause of it, but we never held it against you, mech. Never. You're our kid, might as well've been our own fer's much as we cared – care – 'bout you. That ain't gonna change, Ah swear it on my spark."

After a while, when no response came, Ironhide glanced down at the mech and smiled. Snuggled into his side, the blue racer was fast into recharge again, no doubt worn out from all that had occurred in the past orn. A small smile tilted the young mech's lips as he rested; safe and at ease in his guardian's embrace.


	11. Shaky Dealings

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 10**

 **Shaky Dealings**

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 **Okay, my lovely readers! First chapter of the new year! I know it's taken awhile to get this one up, but holiday-time tends to be very busy. Anywho, onward and forward!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers. And of course, massive thanks to my sister/beta enmused for encouraging me to keep feeding my wild muses.**

 **There weren't any reviews for this last chapter, but I want to give a special thanks to everyone who reads this, especially to those who have fav'd and followed this story so far! I want you all to know just how much you're appreciated, and would love to thank you directly, which I can do through my chapterly review responses. Thank you all again so much for reading, fav'ing, and following, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

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 _The clone unit Nightracer: Mark II will be terminated in precisely 8.392 joors from this moment. Primicerius is now diverting power from unit/host communication to host elimination systems._

 _Diverting power…_

 _Primicerius out._

Nightracer bolted upright, a panicked scream filling her audials and echoing around her. Her claws were clenched around two different objects; one soft and cold, one warm and damp. She could hardly feel her own servos, her grip was so tight. Fiery pain shot into her side like knives, but it felt better than it had… last time she remembered. Her vocalizers were raw and overheating.

Panic was rising in her as the screams continued to sound, and her face felt constricted, tight, closing in on her. Someone was talking, trying to be heard around the wailing. He sounded concerned, afraid, attempting to sooth her.

As the person went on speaking, her audials managed to pick out the words. _"-it's okay, Race, we're still safe, we're still safe, I swear it on my spark, we're still safe – Primus, help me – please stop screaming, we're okay!"_

She frowned. He was obviously talking to her, but why was he asking her to stop screaming? Was that really her voice? Surely she didn't sound like that.

The sniper's optics finally flung open and she snapped away the claustrophobic mask over her face, gasping for air just as the cries ceased. Coolant was dried on her face, some recent, some almost an orn old. Nightracer vented heavily for a klick, then looked down at her hands. One was clenched around a piece of the mesh berth, torn free from its source. The other was wrapped equally tightly around a light blue hand, which shone faintly with life-En where her grip had burst a tertiary line.

The femme met Blurr's optics and her engine whined softly in apology. She thought about what Primicerius had just told her. Her orn was up. She'd been in and out of medical stasis for an entire orn. Which meant that not only was Primicerius going to kill her in a short few joors, she also hadn't moved for an orn, meaning they were late for Swindle's payment, and the DJD was probably at their doorstep.

Just as soon as she'd come to that conclusion, she heard a forceful knock on the door. Nightracer made as though to run, but Blurr grabbed her shoulders before she could get more than an inch off the berth, pushing her back down and gently but firmly restraining her to the berth.

Her wide ruby optics held a crazed fear, the look of a cornered animal, as she watched the door, trembling in her armor. A loud voice shouted – she couldn't hear what it said – but she let out a terrified squeak and struggled against the mech keeping her from escape. When fighting failed, the Decepticon sniper shuddered convulsively and vented hard, trying not to cry as the stress and weight of all the trouble she was in threatened to overwhelm.

Blurr released his detaining grip on her shoulders, but as soon as he did she sprang up and ran for it, only to crash into him as the speedster appeared in her way. Coolant slid from her optics in a clearish-pink trail and the femme at last broke down, sobbing into her captor's chest plates as once again he refused to let her run.

" _Hey, look, it's okay, it's just Ironhide outside dealing with someone. It's probably just the usual Iaconian slum-dwellers, it's fine."_

She watched the mech through tear-blurred optics as he patted her shoulder awkwardly. She felt nothing, and she realized it was the arm that bore the weapon. It had gone completely numb. Her vents choked on her next intake and the sniper sobbed harder, stress giving way to despair.

Primicerius wasn't _going_ to kill her in less than eight and a half joors. It was already killing her, it would just take eight and a half joors to finish the job.

The blue speedster groaned in dismay and his optics went dim as he commed something to someone, sending an instinctive shudder of apprehension through the femme. This didn't go without his noticing and Blurr reached up to touch her face gently, tilting her chin up to look him in the optics.

He ran a servo swiftly across her cheeks, swiping away the spilled coolant. _"Look at me. I get it, it isn't alright and it probably won't be until we leave Cybertron, but I swear to you, everything_ _ **will**_ _be alright."_

"You don't understand-!" She started to object, only to be cut off by an exasperated Blurr.

" _So you keep telling me! But how the Pit am I s'posed to help you if every time I try you just tell me I don't understand?"_ The mech started pacing around the room rapidly, too fast for her to track more than his after-images. _"I get that I'm a 'Bot and you're a 'Con, and I'm the captor and you're the captive, and that makes any level of trust nigh on impossible and a touch absurd, but for Primus' sake, Race, you're the living embodiment of- of secretive-ness!"_

Nightracer stopped trying to follow the racer's movements, instead focusing on calming herself down. She was about to attempt some form of an answer, but just as she opened her mouth, the mech continued on to a full-on rant.

" _I mean, I took you in in the first place, risking my own spark to do so, and I give you a place to stay and all you do to thank me is accuse me of alternate motives. Then I go and get myself stuck in it with Swindle, the lowest of the low down blackmailing Decepticon scum, and you're like 'Oh by the way, you're gonna die 'cause I'm on the DJD's list, but maybe you won't die, so bye!' and I keep helping you anyway even though you'd_ _ **obviously**_ _get along just fine without me-"_

"That's not fair." The charcoal and teal sniper growled indignantly, not that the mech was listening. She grasped her numb, immobile upper arm in her fist, squeezing harder and harder as the mech spoke. Her helm hung low and her armor was sucked in tightly to her frame.

Blurr was now 'pacing' around the room fast enough that the air currents were tugging at her in all directions, making it difficult to maintain her balance. _"Oh and as if the DJD weren't enough, we show up here to get the payment to get a medic_ _ **for you**_ _and_ _ **Overlord**_ _just_ _ **happens**_ _to be in the area! You get your t-cog in a knot over it and I carry you to safety and rust by your berthside for a whole entire orn just so you don't_ _ **kill**_ _yourself in your recharge. Oh, and you forgot to mention that you're just the shattered remains of a person who's probably dead!"_

The whirlwind-ing mech came to an abrupt halt a few steps away from her, an expression of horror on his angled features. He started shaking his helm back and forth, flailing his hands as if he could wipe away the words that he just spoke. _"Wait-! That's not- I didn't mean- Please-"_

Nightracer, in turn, bore a cold, emotionless visage. She ignored the mech's stuttering attempts at fixing what he'd just done. Her ruby optics burned with an icy flame of anger and betrayal. When she spoke, her voice was low and quiet, "A clone. Ersatz. A shattered remnant of what once was. Doomed to forever live under the shadow of a dead legend, and I will _never_ be good enough, because I'm no more than a cheap knockoff of the real deal. In my position, Blurr, would you go announcing that to every bot you meet?"

She didn't wait to let him answer, merely walking over to the door, not particularly caring anymore what dangers might await her there. After all, she was already a legend. Another page in history. Who would miss her? The femme cast Blurr one last stony glare, "Bots like _you_ are why I run. Because some things? Some things are far worse than the DJD."

The femme stormed out, pausing only to thank Ironhide and First Aid briefly for their help. The boxy little medic had tried to convince her to rest awhile longer, for her spark, but that hadn't gone over well. The familiar ache of her battle systems pushing for dominance had settled in again, and the medic ended up across the room with a rather unpleasant set of dents in his plating.

Ironhide hadn't tried to stop her from leaving after that. Bots rarely did.

Blurr watched her walk out, his frame perfectly still and his mind slightly dazed. He hadn't meant to say that – well he had meant to say it, but he hadn't meant it to come out like that. It wasn't supposed to have sounded like that. He was a complete and total glitch to her. Things like what he'd just told her were why the War had started.

The mentality of degrading bots because they were different.

Oh, he was a walking social malfunction. A loud shouting followed by a crash sounded outside the door and he winced. Moments later he heard the front door slam shut. This was all his fault. He needed to find her before she got herself killed, and he needed to give her time before trying to apologize, and he needed to find her and apologize as soon as possible while still giving her time, but-

He needed his femme-guardian. She would have known how to fix this. Maybe. Or she would have just punched him for being a glitch to a wounded femme and tell him to fix it himself. Blurr smiled fondly at the thought.

Okay, okay. He needed a plan of action. Plan of action, plan of action… Scrap. The mech flopped down cross-legged on the berth, facing the wall. He banged his helm against the wall futilely. He really wanted to go after her right then and try to patch this up, but at the same time, he'd struck a nerve with what he'd said, and it would probably be better to let her have a cycle or two to cool down so she didn't just try to murder him.

But he couldn't just sit here for that long, otherwise she'd be long gone and he'd never be able to find her again, and the DJD or Overlord would find her and off her and it would be his fault cause he promised he'd keep her safe – which now that he thought about it, was a really stupid thing to say too, cause he'd never forgive himself if he broke his word, but he didn't really have any right to promise anyone that, because he was just him and what if that wasn't enough to keep her safe?

"Blurr? Y'alright, mech?"

Agh! Guardian! Quit banging your helm on the wall… Quick! Look natural, act natural… He scrambled to the chair by the berth and sat down just as Ironhide came in. He sat there, one pede crossed over the other, his back stiff as a board.

" _Yep! I'm fine, perfectly fine, better than fine – I feel great! Why wouldn't I feel great? Of course I'm alright, no big!"_ Blurr blurted out, finally getting himself to stop blathering. He internally rolled his optics at himself. Not at all suspicious.

"Yer femme friend just left somewhat, ah…" The red mech ran a hand over his helm, sighing heftily, "Violently. You say somethin' to 'er?"

" _Who? Me? No, of course not, why would something I said make her freak out like that?"_

"Yer the first friend she's 'ad since whenever it was she got cross-ways wi' Tarn 'n 'is goons, aren't ya?"

Blurr opened his mouth to object, shut it, opened it again, and shut it. Finally he huffed at his guardian. _"How'd you find out about that? I never said anything about it and – scrap, she'll kill me the nano I find her, 'Hide! What do you expect me to do about this?"_

The big red old mech just shrugged with a little smile, "That ain't really my problem, kid."

Desperate to not be left hanging like that, the blue speedster's engine whined faintly, _"Come with me, 'Hide. I- I got a ship and fuel and medical supplies and- and the coolest gun range and simulator you've ever seen, it'll be great, you can come with us and we'll patch together a crew and it'll be just like old times! Come with me, 'Hide."_

He just kept rambling on, and on, and on, faster and faster, more and more desperately, because he could already see his answer in his dark blue optics. He could already see that nothing he ever said would change his guardian's mind, but he tried anyway. Even as he spewed out an ever-growing list of reasons to come with him, Blurr's shoulder bolts were sagging and his tone was growing more and more pleading.

Ironhide's expression showed just how much it pained him to see his adopted mechling begging him, but that firm decision in his optics never wavered. At last the old mech clapped a hand on his charge's shoulder, halting the spiel.

"Ah can't, Blurr, ya know Ah can't come wi' you. Ah can't leave Cybertron, mech, Ah just can't." The guardian sighed heavily, "Ah've given up far too much fer this rock to leave it now. But thank you, Blurr – an' Ah really mean it – thank you. Ya gave me a reason ta live again, an' Ah figger Ah've got a few vorns ta make up fer. There's still bots 'ere that need me and Aid's help."

Blurr looked into his guardian's optics, knowing in his spark he was right. Ironhide gave him a tight, swift hug, and smiled at him, "Now go get 'er, mech. Make sure she don't get 'erself killed.

 **Seven Joors Later.**

The dead planet's dark sky shimmered, but the stars were dim and the moons were long since torn from Cybertron's orbit. City lights were scarce; most bots had fled at least a vorn ago, and most of those who were left knew better than to light up such a beacon.

It was still beautiful though, to her. Dark, broken, and lonely, but beautiful. A lot like her.

On the tallest standing spire of the war-torn city perched a teal and charcoal femme, ready to pounce or flee at a moment's notice. She watched the plaza where she was expecting company with optics like a cyber-hawk. The sniper's skill was such that one would never see her where she crouched behind the point of the spire.

Harsh winds tore at her frame, but the young Decepticon's balance wasn't swayed.

She caught sight of her target and sprang from her position, sliding nimbly down the side of the building by the claws of one hand. Remaining in the shadows, Nightracer asked gruffly, "Did you bring the medic?"

"Did you bring the payment?" Swindle countered, not at all fazed by her distrust.

The femme stepped out of the comfort of her shield of darkness and grimaced slightly. Her optics swept the area and she mentally marked each possible escape route, battle protocols running on stand-by.

"There were… complications." She replied tersely, indicating the arm that bore the Primicerius device. The numbness had spread to her shoulder and side, and hiding the limp from a lack of feeling in the upper half of her pede was becoming more and more difficult.

The tan and purple weapons-dealer scowled for the briefest of moments before his usual easy grin slid back into place. "Hel-loo, beautiful… What have we here?"

He strolled over to her and picked up her limp arm to better inspect the gun, pulling and yanking on the appendage as he examined his payment. As he was doing so, a second mech stomped over, crossing his arms over his chest.

"This is the patient?" The bright green mech grunted, huffing. His red visor brightened as he scanned her thoroughly, making the femme squirm slightly. "T-cog is blown, lacerations along the back – probably glass – armor worn through in multiple places, evidence of prolonged lack of fuel – already being treated – and the spark chamber's a wreck. And that's without any equipment. Slag, Swindle, you don't joke when you say you have a client for me."

"You mentioned complications?" Swindle asked somewhat distractedly as he continued his examination.

Nightracer smirked self-depreciatively, "Yeah. They have to do with the fact that I can't take the gun off, and its AI system's given me about another joor and a quarter to live."

The tan Decepticon cocked his helm, "Interesting. I thought the AI was self-preserving?"

"It declared me a threat for 'malicious intent'." She winced, "It was after all an Autobot-built device… Apparently my thought patterns were less than cheery, fighting Overlord."

The green and purple medic guffawed, "You went one-on-one with Overlord?! Do you have a death wish, femme?"

She just shrugged nonchalantly, finally pulling away from the weapon's-dealer, scowling at him and stepping back to a more strategic position. "You get the gun off of me, the deal's set."

"Now, it's none of my business, but didn't you have an Autobot partner running the deal?" Swindle questioned idly, flipping through a datapad of his records.

"He- He crossed one line too many." She cocked her helm, her servos lightly massaging her frozen shoulder. "But that's not important. We have a deadline to meet."

The wind was howling outside an old warehouse in Altihex. Inside the old warehouse in Altihex, a femme howled with it.

Cold metal servos and medical tools shifted in her wiring, and the green and purple medic working on her swore sharply under his breath. "-Femme! Sit still!"

Nightracer gasped as Hook cut another wire in her upper arm. Numb and immobile apparently did not include pain-free. At all. She clenched her jaw and bit back another shriek as after cutting more wires, he yanked on the Primicerius weapon to see if he had broken its grip on her.

"I don't know what else to do." Hook growled, slamming down a medical utensil. "The gun is fused, and severing its connections hasn't accomplished anything."

She hissed, but said nothing. She could hardly move at all now, and according to her chronometer, she was going to be dead in less than half a groon. They were out of time, and the doctor's only plan had failed.

"Why don't you just cut it off of her?" Swindle asked coolly, showing no signs of thinking it unusual to request a client's amputation. His purple optics held an almost unnoticeable glint of anxiety as he glanced around the warehouse again. "You know how to reattach the limb once the prize is removed."

"In case you've forgotten, this prize is killing me." The sniper snapped at him. His nonchalance as she sat there dying was wearing thin her patience.

The combaticon quirked an optic ridge at her, his tone still maddeningly unaffected, his lips still wearing that bright, flashy grin, "You see, Nightracer, I'm a fair mech. I like to keep my clients satisfied, so long as they can pay. I also know when a transaction has reached an end. I've kept my end of the bargain, and you'll keep your's either way. Because the thing is, sweetspark, whether you live or die isn't really my concern."

She chuckled quietly, smiling like a bot who already knew she had the winning cards. "Fair point. Will it be enough to save you from Tarn's wrath when he finds out you not only aided me, but let me die without his permission as well. What do you wanna bet he won't kill you in my place?"

Hook just watched the two of them interact, at long last clearing his vents to draw their attention, trying not to think about the fact that she just said she was on the List. Which indirectly meant he was probably going to wake up burning in Helex, or chewing on his own processor module in the next quartex or so.

"As to your question, no, I can't just cut off her arm, because the virus the weapon planted has already spread through her systems." The green and purple Decepticon grimaced, "You said it didn't consider you a valid user?"

The femme nodded her helm slowly. Hook went on cautiously, treading thin ground where any Decepticon was concerned. "Then we make it think otherwise."

"How do you want to do that?" She asked quietly, already knowing the answer by the medic's tone.

"Processor link."

She tried to shake her helm, but found that she couldn't even make herself move even that much. Nightracer moaned in displeasure. "I don't think I've got much in the way of options."

For a moment the mech just blinked at her, not entirely sure he'd heard her properly. Then he raised an optic ridge, "You mean you're not going to argue? Kick, scream, try to rip my spark out?"

Big ruby optics filled with resignation, Nightracer huffed quietly, "I can't move and I'll be dead in two breems if I don't. Sync cable's on my neck, right side."

"Odd place for it." Hook commented as he took his hand away from her wrist and moved to where she'd indicated, easily finding the cord and sliding it into his port directly.

She shuddered as his presence filled her processors, but held her firewalls down for him, sending a vague pulse of curiosity that he'd trusted her to do it directly.

 _I know a bot with nothing to lose when I see one._ Was all the medic replied, respecting her privacy and moving straight to where he needed to be.

The Primicerius' programs were sloppy and disorganised, standing out like a beacon against Shockwave's flawless coding. She could feel through the link that the designer of her code had not escaped Hook, but she was grateful that he didn't see fit to ask. She could also feel that the programming mayhem that was the weapon disgusted the perfectionist medic.

In her memories, she couldn't recall very many times being synced with a bot, but at the same time, in her spark she knew that it was a frequent occasion in her life. Shockwave was her programmer, her master, and in a way, she feared him far more than even the DJD. Because in a way, he was worse than them. They ended bots.

He gave them life.

She still wasn't sure how she could be here. Living. If all she was was a copy, built and programmed in a lab. Her only purpose was to kill. To be the legend that she could never live up to. She shouldn't even have a spark, if she truly was a clone, like Shockwave had told her. Which left her lost. She didn't even know what she was.

Except for a lonely, hunted, and hated mistake who'd refused to fulfil her purpose.

When one turns back on their sole purpose in being… What does that leave them with? Who does that make them?

All these thoughts, by a skill and habit she couldn't recall having attained, Nightracer held to herself, giving Hook an impression of an uncomfortable, worn out, mental silence within her mind. How she managed it, she had no idea, except that she had done this before, too many times to remember.

 _You're good at this._ Hook commented, still prodding at Primicerius' code. She sensed a sliver of frustration every now and then, but for the most part the waves off of him led her to the conclusion that he was making headway and ought to be done with the program before the program was done with her.

 _So I noticed._ She replied cryptically, certainly not complaining about this ability.

 _Your spark is-_

 _None of your business. I didn't hire you to pry._ Nightracer cut him off abruptly, then felt somewhat bad about snapping, her mental tone softening, _Please, just get rid of the program and leave._

The femme sighed inwardly, her thoughts and spark still in turmoil. Blurr had called her the shattered remnants of the original Nightracer. Shockwave had called her a clone; the result of a cloning experiment that hadn't worked out good enough. If she were cloned, she wouldn't have a spark, yet she did. What did Blurr mean by that?

A small part of her sneered at herself, thinking, 'Well, if you hadn't thrown a fit and run away, he might have told you.'

She sighed again, this time accidentally letting it slip through her thought-barrier, making the constructicon medic give a pulse of inquiry. She sent back the equivalent of a weary smirk, determining to leave her thoughts for a later time.

 _Whoever programmed this was an idiot. It works, true, but there is no order, no functionality to the code. Crude worksmechship._ Hook muttered indignantly, his presence flaring with disapproval. _It reeks of that two-bit klutz, Wheeljack._

About a breem later, mere klicks before her time would have been up, Hook started backing out of her mind, his mental presence radiating professional satisfaction.

 _Done. You should start regaining system function and mobility in the next groon or so._ Another few moments later and the mech disconnected from her mind, standing up from where he'd been crouched beside her.

He grabbed the gun, and after a small moment of hesitation, pulled on the clasps once again, giving a pleased smile when it came free, the previously solid fusing crumbling to dust under the slightest pressure. "All's well, with four klicks to spare."

"Shame; spare parts sell for a fortune these days." Swindle winked at her and grinned at the medic, snatching the weapon away from him and gently placing it in the protective carry case he'd brought for it. "Anyway, it's been a pleasure working with you, but I have other… business to attend to."

Without another word, the tan mech transformed and sped off into the night, leaving Nightracer and Hook alone in the darkness.

Nightracer attempted to give her left arm a trial lift to no avail. She snorted at the tiny shred of her that had actually hoped it would be so easy. The femme watched Swindle's dust trail, then shifted her gaze to inspect the warehouse they'd chosen to camp out in. It was sturdy enough, but far too open for her liking.

The walls most certainly would not be helping block her signal. Be that as it may, since she couldn't twitch her servos much less run for her spark, she was pretty well dead if anybot that didn't like her decided to show up. Hook would no doubt be leaving soon, deal or no deal, and the only bot that had cared what happened to her, she'd left in Iacon to rust with his guardian.

Hopefully the mess Overlord had made would be big enough to keep the DJD off her bumper for a bit.

"So." Hook drew out the word, briefly filling the silence before he went on, "Tarn's wrath, eh?"

"Yup."

That brought an expression of bemused question to the bright green mech's face, what part of it not covered by his red-orange visor. "Yup? You're on the Decepticon Justice's hit list and all you've got to say about it is 'yup'."

Nightracer raised an optic ridge, her lips twitching towards a smile as she replied simply, "Yup."

Hook crossed his arms and his visor flashed briefly before he decided to drop the matter. "Swindle said you had a safehouse with all the equipment I'll need to patch you up. This obviously ain't it."

She gave a derisive snort, glancing around at the large, shattered windows, the mostly-fallen roof, and the one and a half walls that had crumbled and caved in on themselves. "Obviously. Unfortunately, that arrangement's no longer mine to offer…"

The teal and charcoal femme pursed her lips. That wouldn't pose much of a problem though. Blurr had inadvertently let her see where the access panel to the cloaked ship doors was. Which meant she could probably hack it. There were very few doors she couldn't hack, and while several rooms in the ship were such, she doubted the front door would be, since Blurr had figured it out.

Living by herself, for herself when no bot wanted to help her and most bots wanted to kill her… well, she had learned a lot in the past vorn. The thing was, she didn't particularly want to run into Blurr.

"Well, deal or no, unless you have shelter, fuel, and supplies for me to work with, I'm outta here." Hook told her bluntly, already packing his gear.

"I… I can still get in." Nightracer said quietly, everything in her screaming that this was a bad plan. This was just like everywhere else. She was perfectly welcome until too many secrets got wretched into the open, and then she was gone.

Going back to a place never worked. Last time she'd tried that had been Maccadam's. It had nearly ended in a massacre. No, going back never worked. Did she really have a choice though?

"It's just a few hics from here. As soon as I can walk, we'll leave. The… owner might make a fuss, but I-I'll make sure he isn't an issue." The Decepticon sniper met the medic's gaze with a cold determination in her crimson optics. "So… do we still have a deal?"

Hook levelled a suspicious glare on the immobile femme, setting his wire-cutters back in their proper place in his meticulously tidy med-kit. "And if I say the deal's off, what then?"

"Other than me dying? Not much." She shrugged the one shoulder that the virus had released. "I don't deal in death threats. I've got enough of my own to deal with."

The medic's optic ridges shot up so high she could see them over the top of his visor. Nonetheless clearly distrustful, the constructicon nodded, "Fair enough. Give me a reason to and I'll kill you though."

She shrugged again, having fully expected as much. "Fair enough."


	12. Quite Right

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 11**

 **Quite Right**

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 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers.**

 **Huge thanks to my sister enmused for beta reading for me! I know this update is really late, but school just started up for me, and I've actually had this chapter ready for a couple weeks, but this was my first chance to update.**

 **I want to offer my utmost appreciation and thanks to everyone who is reading this story, and also to the new fav's and followers this story has gotten since my last update! I adore you guys, and I would love to hear what you all are thinking. Your input and feedback really is my motivation in writing, and I look forward to seeing more of you guys! As always, read, enjoy, and pop in for a review!**

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It was the middle of the day, but the skies were hardly any lighter than if it were midnight. Ever since the exodus, Cybertron had been cast into a seeming eternal darkness; in all meanings of the word. Along with the darkness, the acid rains came far more frequently, giving the whole planet a general feeling of depression and despair.

Or it may have just been his mood.

Granted, he'd only been running all over the planet in the pouring acid for a bit over eleven joors. So, almost a whole rotation, but still, all things considered, that wasn't really too long right? After all, she could be anywhere, and there was always the possibility that she was just staying a step ahead of him, not that that would make much sense what with his being the fastest mech alive.

Then again, on that point, being the fastest mech alive meant that in the eleven joors he'd been searching, he'd actually covered the same amount of ground as a regular bot would in an orn, so he really ought to have found her by now.

What if she'd been hurt by the DJD, or Swindle, or Overlord, or whoever else she'd managed to slag off? For the matter, she wouldn't have even had to have run into someone, she wasn't fully recovered, so what if she'd gone into stasis lock in an alley somewhere? He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, if he'd had half a processor, he'd've just been glad to be rid of the excruciating-death-just-waiting-to-happen.

But he had given her his word that she'd be safe until she was recovered enough to take care of herself.

Blurr zipped through another broken down warehouse in Altihex, just as he had gone through every alley and building in every city between Iacon and Altihex. He had no way of knowing that she'd come back to Altihex, but that was where she'd been when he found her, and that was where she had a promise of a medic, so it was basically the only lead he had to-

Wait, was that a piece of internal wiring laying on the floor there? The flash of blue speedster came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the particularly trashed warehouse. He crouched down beside the large, empty shipping crate and picked up the gleaming strand that had caught his optic. It kinda looked like internal wiring.

He examined the area surrounding the strand. There was a faint imprint of where a bot might have sat down, leaning against the crate. The bot would have been about his height, maybe a bit on the light-weight side? It wasn't a lot to go on, but it was definitely something, so he'd follow it through. The ground was wet and held the mould of his footprints pretty well, so he was gonna assume that that meant that it would have held her imprint for longer than normal.

Now, he knew that he was no detective or scout, so he was going to leave off his Surelock deductions at that, while he still sounded somewhat intelligent in his helm at least. Not that sounding intelligent in his helm gave him any reason to assume that he wouldn't sound like a half-wit trying to show off.

In any case, the imprint sort of seemed to fit Nightracer, so he was going to assume that she had been here with a medic, since his scans did no good; residual energy from her EM field was long gone, especially with the acid rains mixing up signals. The original arrangement with Swindle and the medic was that they would meet in Altihex and then they'd take the medic back to the ship where he'd get Energon and supplies to fix her up properly.

Since the only place he knew of her knowing of with all of those things was his ship, Blurr supposed that would be the best place to continue his search, so he stood and up and started running again, ignoring the burn of the rain on his plating despite his efforts to stay under cover. Did he expect to find anyone on his ship?

Honestly, no.

He didn't take very long to get to the ship, as in his various boredom runs and scrap-hunts he'd come to know his way around this run-down dump of a city. He wouldn't have had to go through any of this if the Autobots hadn't left him, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he would have enjoyed going with them to continue the fighting for eons more on some other unfortunate world. Cause as miserable as scrounging through life just to survive was, he was weary of all the killing and death. Living to survive wasn't near as miserable in his opinion as living to kill was.

Blurr flipped open the panel to open the main cargo door to the ship, mashed in the code and raced into the hangar. He wasn't sure why he was in a rush either, except that he was always in a rush, whether he actually had a goal or not.

At least that's what he'd been told. Other Autobots always told him to chill, slow down, relax, quit being such a hurry. Everyone said he was always in a rush, so he just assumed he was always in a rush, but really he wasn't going any faster than normal, he was just like that. No bot seemed to get that though, they called him a freak, or a spazz, or all sorts of other things he didn't care to recall. They told him to slow down, but they didn't understand just how much it physically hurt him to do so.

The light blue speedster shook his helm. His guardians had always told him to ignore what other bots said about him, that he wasn't a freak, he was gifted, which Chromia had always reminded him made him better than them, which meant that they were just jealous because he could do cool stuff that they couldn't. Ignoring other bots' words was always way easier said than done though.

He was getting distracted, and he didn't feel like going down that mental track anyway. It just made him want to punch something. Or run. He took a deep breath and started zipping down the halls, popping briefly into each and every room that he had access to, just in case.

Telling himself to stop thinking along a certain trail was usual one of those easier-said-than-done sorta things too. The Autobot messenger huffed, peeking into the quarters he'd given to Nightracer.

He ought to have known better than to have said what he'd said to her. He of all mechs ought to have known better, cause he had to deal with plenty of bots judging him just because he was different and she was no different and as much as he'd always hated those sparkless bot who judged others for their differences, he'd been just as sparkless as any of them. It was easy to tell when someone was being judgemental when that someone wasn't yourself.

Blurr started pacing in the hall, hardly even noticing the shrill whistle of the whooshing air in the small hall in his wake. What was he even thinking? As if she'd forgive him. They weren't even on the same side of the war, which even though there wasn't really a war here any more, still made a big difference in a bot's mind, and even with all of that set aside, he'd basically told her she was rip-off bot with less than half a spark.

The thing with him being different was that he had the bright side of seeing that he had a cool ability that he really loved and made other bots jealous and won him galactic medals, so he could tell himself that to cheer himself up. But her being different was just... not really all that fun, no matter what angle she looked at it from. She had been brutally torn apart and split into like a zillion other bots, and all she could do was wonder if she was somehow inadequate compared to whoever it was she used to be.

He wondered briefly if she remembered anything from before she was shattered, because that would just make the whole thing that much more painful and depressing. The mech shook his helm again, skidding to a halt right where he was, fans not even cycling after pacing in a circuit through the whole ship about fifty times.

Great. Now not only was he distracted, he was stalling. Not even stalling very subtly, if he bothered to think about it for a fraction of a nano. The very first place he should have looked for her in was the med-bay, because obviously she'd take the medic to the med-bay to repair her, cause it wasn't as if there were medical supplies in the cleaner-drone closets, which he actually knew that there weren't since he'd looked in every cleaner-drone closet on the whole entire ship at least a dozen times by now, not to mention reorganizing each every time he looked in one.

Just in case, right?

Blurr sighed again, fiddling with his thumbs at high speed nervously. He attempted to steel himself to zip off to the med-bay to apologize and meet the medic and apologize more and see if there was any way he could help out with her repairs and apologize and- He cut himself off again mentally. That amount of apologizing might possibly be considered a tad overkill, and he'd probably go about rambling like an idiot until she hated his guts.

Okay. Overthinking it would just leave him too discouraged to try, so he really needed to shut up and quit scaring himself in his helm.

A blue blur flew through the halls, coming to a stop at the second time passing the med-bay. At long last, he just pushed through the excessively extravagant and over-abundant self-subspacing revolving doors on this ship. The door spun around on itself rapidly after he'd gone through, giving the sudden, spark-crushing silence a dramatic flare with his entry.

Nightracer was laying on the berth, which was tilted so that the sniper was half-way sitting upright. Her unusually large ruby optics widening at first sight of him before narrowing in displeasure. It was obvious that while she was awake, she was heavily sedated and a bit... What was the word he wanted? Discombobulated.

By her expression, the sedatives were definitely not making her more amiable towards him.

"I'm gonna assume you're the glitch that called her a shatterspark?"

At the annoyed mech's words, Blurr noticed the green and purple Decepticon for the first time since he'd walked in. Also at his words, Blurr cringed in sync with his spark, his own guilt washing over him in exponentially growing waves.

Nevertheless, the blue speedster took exception to the Decepticon medic's tone, quirking an optic ridge and leaning to one side, crossing his arms. _"And I'm gonna assume you're the glitch that raised the price on Swindle which got her half of the damage she's got now because she had to fight_ _ **Overlord**_ _to scrounge together a payment for you?"_

The two mechs glaraed at each other for several klicks while Nightracer glared at the both of them, looking angry, yet confused from the amount of sedatives and painkillers in her.

Finally the bright green medic grunted at him, apparently calling their insulting match at a draw for now, uncrossing his arms and going back to checking his patient's vitals and condition. "Name's Hook."

 _"Blurr."_ He snapped back, appearing at Nightracer's side in the blink of an optic. He smiled apologetically at her, but addressed 'Hook', _"What all have you done to her? I'm betting she's still awake because she threatened to kill you if you tried to put her into medical stasis?"_

"Slow down, mech." The medic muttered, adding more under his breath so that Blurr couldn't hear it, "I operated on and replaced her t-cog. Did what I could to help her spark-chamber and other internals without putting her all the way under. And for your information, she just requested that I didn't put her under and that was that."

 _"Will she be okay? Can you even fix everything that's wrong with her without putting her in stasis? I thought she had a lot of relatively in depth stuff needing done to get her back up and running-"_ He stopped, his optics going wide as he thought about what he'd just said, _"Oh scrap, I'm sorry, Race, I didn't mean that like that, I just want you to be fully repaired, not running again. Argh, why I can't I ever get anything out the way I mean to?!"_

A small smile touched her features before she seemed to remind herself that she was supposed to be mad at him, at which point her glare deepened more than before and she attempted to cross her arms, then winced as she disturbed a fresh weld. The femme settled back down to how she'd been previously.

"You're a jerk." She informed him sternly, her words slurring together slightly. "And soon as this dude fixes me, I'm outta here cause of it, so no trying to convince me otherwise, Blurry."

He could tell that she was trying really hard and with no small degree of frustration to sound as angry as she no doubt was with him, but the meds in her system just made her sound like a cute, put out youngling. A grin fought to make an appearance on his face, but he managed to keep it at bay, though his deep blue optics twinkled in his handsome faceplates.

"Your stupid optics are laughing at me." Her engine growled, and her optics shone with the same cold, betrayed wrath that they had when she'd stormed out of Ironhide's flat at the beginning of that rotation, reminding the speedster of just how badly he'd screwed up, and just how important it was that he not patronize her.

He gave another apologetic smile, not really anything more than a faint upward quirk of his lip-plates, forcing himself to speak at a slower pace for her. It didn't matter that it hurt, because this was important and he actually cared enough to make sure she could understand him.

"I know, Race, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, for... for everything. For being me. Cause I can be a really jerk sometimes, and I- _I_ _don't even notice when I'm doing it till I've said something awful and then I think about it later and realize that I was and..."_ Blurr trailed off into a ramble as he tried to slow down and failed, _"Aaaaand I'm talking too fast for you to process a single word I'm saying, aren't I? I'm sorry about that too, but I just can't slow down right now because it hurts and it takes so much focus and I'm stressed out because I'm a total aft and it doesn't matter how much I apologize, cause all you're probably hearing is 'nwoeghawhdogethoksngonaseughg' and, and-"_

To his utter surprise, the teal femme reached out and touched his nervously vibrating hand, her ruby optics clear and sharp, the fog of the sedatives completely gone, her voice no longer slurred and her harsh, Kaonian accent strong again, "Blurr, you're right. You betrayed my trust and exposed things that no bot save me and my _creator_ know about."

The mech, and the silent medic who was attempting to seem disinterested and invisible, both winced minutely at how she spat out the word 'creator' like the vilest of curses. Blurr's armor was pulled tight to his frame and his shoulders hunched over like he was trying to hide from her stinging tone.

She let out a short, empty laugh, "I say you betrayed my trust. For a mech who never had it to begin with, I gotta say, I'm impressed. It'll take a lot more than 'sorry' to make that right." She locked optics with him, her gaze piercing, "But don't ever, _ever_ , apologize to _anyone_ for being yourself. Knowing who you are is precious and it is not something you apologize for. Take it from a bot who doesn't even know _what_ she is, much less who."

Blurr just blinked at the femme, shocked to hear such fierce conviction from the same femme who just an orn ago was running in utter terror from her own pedefalls. She sort of sagged into the berth when she was finished, but the cloud of sedation never came back to her optics. She was fully coherent and unaffected by the drugs, maybe because his babbling snapped her out of it?

"What?" Nightracer asked finally, quirking an optic ridge at the staring speedster and the medic who was now fiddling with wires and other components in her knee, pretending he was minding his own business. "You actually thought the sedatives would work?"

"Well they did for a little while." Hook said dryly, his processors well occupied with all of things she'd talked about during the relatively short time that he'd managed to keep her out of it. The only reason he didn't pump more into her was because she'd reached the maximum safe dosage.

Honestly though, the medic wasn't entirely sure he could take in much more of what she had to say. Basically, this ship was the only safe place from the DJD on the whole planet, and he might as well have sold his spark when he accepted Swindle's offer to fix this femme.

Unfortunately, this ship was also the first place he'd been where no bot knew or cared who he was... or used to be before- Yeah. He wasn't thinking about that. There was fuel here to last a vorn, and enough room to house a crew of at least a hundred bots; two luxuries he hadn't seen together in a decavorn. Pit, there were even wash-racks... with cleanser to boot.

He soldered the last wire that had been cut when she got that wound in her lower thigh. It was obvious that she'd seen a medic recently, but it was also obvious that that medic had been more concerned with keeping what was left of her spark on this side of the Well, and had thus failed to notice that her self-repair systems were nearly burnt out.

Hook frowned minutely behind his red visor. He'd done what he could for her repair systems, but the damage would take time to heal. They were just worn out. From what he'd heard in her drugged up rambling, she hadn't stopped running - or getting shot at, damaged etcetera - for a vorn straight. Which meant her self-repairs had been healing surgery-worthy injuries for as long.

Put simply, her whole body was fried and her spark wasn't strong enough to utilize the little power available that it needed to recover.

"Can't give you anything else for the pain, not without overloading your systems." The green mech snorted, "Not that that matters, since there's nothing more I can do for right now."

 _"Whaddya mean, 'for right now'? I thought you're supposed to fix her and get her back up to full functionali-"_

Hook cut the speedster off with a glare through his visor. "She's at full functionality. She's just not fit to go running through acid getting blasted by Megatron's pet executioners."

The femme in question laughed quietly, her voice oozing sarcasm, "Oh, okay. That's cool with me, I mean, he's a pyschopathic mass murderer, but I'm sure Tarn's just a really great guy at spark, why don't I just call up the DJD and let 'em know I need an orn or two sick leave. Like, 'Yeah, hi Tarn, I'm sorry, could you just tell the guys not to try and kill or torture me for my sins for a bit, 'cause the local medic says all this running for my life is bad for my health.'"

Blurr snickered for about half a nano before he realized that that probably wasn't the most appropriate response, at which point the light blue mech crossed his arms and glared at Hook along with Nightracer, though his face kept twitching spasmodically.

He just smirked at the racer, an expression that made the annoyed femme level him with a flat glare. The medic's mind was made up though, and he didn't particularly care if his patient hated him for it, it wasn't exactly like they were chummy to begin with. He was a mercenary medic.

"That's not my problem. I have more work to do before your free of my care, I'm staying on this ship until I'm done with you, and if I have to bolt you to this berth I have no qualms against doing so."

 _"Where will you stay onboard? We don't really want- I mean, we don't have space to house you, or the supplies, so you really wouldn't want to stay here when you aren't working on her, cause..."_ The Autobot trailed off at the look Hook gave him, and he realized that trying to lie to the mech was stupid, given the size of the ship and the location of the med-bay, since he would have had to pass all of the quarters to get to the med-bay from the cargo hold, and the amount of med-grade Energon alone attested to how false his lies were. Finally, Blurr just darted to the other side of the room, running a hand over his helm spike, muttering, _"Good one, Blurr, just great, now you're outnumbered by Cons on your own ship, wonderful planning there. Oh wait, there wasn't any planning, because you've somehow managed to be the fastest mech alive while simultaneously being the slowest mech alive."_

Behind him, the blue mech heard Nightracer giggle, "You should get a medal for it."

For another breem or so, the three of them were enveloped in an awkward silence, disturbed only by the sound of Blurr pacing through the med-bay reorganizing everything and the quiet tinkering of Hook as he tidied up his own tools, occasionally growling at the speedster for attempting to move something.

"I think it's only fair to let Hook stay here as long as he feels necessary. We have room and fuel to spare." Nightracer suggested tentatively, subconsciously glancing to Blurr for confirmation. "And short of the usual DJD-related, life-threatening situations, I'll try to be a good patient."

In the blink of an optic, Blurr was in front of her, hands on his hips, skeptical expression evident, _"Oh, really, who died and made you captain? The mech's a Con, he should be in a cell under interrogation, not running loose in the ship eating our fuel and using our supplies."_

Nightracer smirked at him, watching as his visage remained solid and unmoving. "By that logic, I'll just go lock myself in a cell to rust and starve then. Or can we all just stay on the same ship without imprisoning or maiming each other?"

 _"Fine."_ The speedster pouted, sounding remarkably child-like.

"Fine." Hook mimicked, shaking his helm at the both of them, "Since we're apparently voting on this with the finesse of sparklings."

She smiled, "Fine."

 **Three Orns Later: Maccadam's Old Oil House**

Behind the bar, a small orange and beige femme rocked her wheeled feet back and forth as she leaned against the counter, trying to convince an over-charged customer to give the high-grade a rest for the night and go home. Her pretty, round blue optics showed a vague hint of exasperation, well-hidden from her cheery voice.

At last she just straightened up and patted the counter next to the mech, then rolled off to serve another customer. She smiled brightly at the trio she was currently serving at one of the booths, laughing and sharing the latest news and rumors.

After a couple of klicks the little femme bobbed her helm at the three, winking and saying, "I'll have that back for you, Lickety-split!"

That last part they echoed with her, laughing uproariously afterwards. She giggled, zipping back over to the bar to start on their drinks. That group always got the daily special, no matter what that happened to be. She cleaned out three of the tall, pyramid-shaped cubes and started mixing the drinks.

"Hmm." Lickety-Split popped her helm around the corner, the triangular attachments on the sides of her helm bouncing slightly as she hollered, "Hey, 'Stash? Could we get some morra the sweetened mercury out here? The special's been a real hit tonight!"

She skated over to the one-mech band on the little stage in the corner, still after all her time here having to stifle a giggle at the odd looking bot. He transformed into a musical keyboard, so he had little white and black keys for his abdomen and metal strings down his back. His pedes were pedals, and his helm had pipes of different lengths and sizes sticking straight up from the sides and back of his helm.

"Hiya, Tusks! How's it goin'?" She chirped bouncing up onto the little stage and turning up the volume on the speakers he was hooked into. "We've got folks requesting the remix of 'Lil' Bo Beep'."

The gold-accented ebony mech rolled his yellow optics, his gold faceplates the image of resignation, his harmonic voice heavy with distaste. "Again? They always ask for 'Lil' Bo Beep'. Why can't they ask for the Iacon Philharmonics, or the Orchestrations?"

She just laughed, bouncing back off the stage, stacking a platter full of empty cubes on her helm and four more balanced on her forearms. "C'mon, you know the Orchestrations are creepy, and the Philarmonics are too drowsy. It's Bo Beep or the Kaonics, right?"

"One of these vorns, our clientele is bound discover better taste." Tusks responded wistfully, playing out the intro to the requested song - if one could call it a song.

Lickety-Split grinned, giving the same reply she always gave him when he brought this up, "Yeah! Just like I'm gonna win the Ibex Cup and run away with my knight in shining armor, right?"

An audio-splitting shriek cut the air, instantly throwing the bar into silence. She was about to check it out, make sure the bouncers were doing their jobs or whatever, when a pair of hands wrapped over her mouth and another pair locked around her shoulders, crushing her. A loud clatter sounded as all five platters of dishes she was holding shattered at her feet.

The orange femme tried to scream or fight the bot's hold, but his grip was too strong for her to even make a sound. She kicked and flailed to no avail, her pale blue optics wide with fear.

Her four-armed captor chuckled at the terror no doubt radiating through her emotional field, not to mention the fact that she was shaking in her armor.

A second mech stepped into her view, and the screams of the whole bar as they recognized him seemed small and no more than mildly shocked when she compared them to the sound of pure, unbridled terror she would have made if she could have.

"Oh, my dear waitress, you needn't be afraid." The dark purple war-mech purred, his silky voice mesmerizing. His face-plates were a perfectly formed Decepticon insignia. "We only want to talk about a very special friend of ours. I believe you may have met her a few orns back? Do try to recall."

The little waitress's engine let out a long keen and her processors were hiccupping. She was pretty sure if her optics widened any more or her armor clamped down any tighter, she'd probably pass out on the spot. This was Tarn, the leader of the DJD, and he came here especially for her. She was worse than dead.

Hot pink coolant tears were streaming down her face relentlessly, and she had a feeling she was going to glitch from fear in another klick or so.

"Oh, Helex, put the poor femme down." Tarn requested, clicking his glossa in disapproval, "That's no way to treat our friends, is it?"

When her captor did as he'd been ordered, she swayed, her balance unsteady and her pedes hardly holding her frame up. The dark violet leader of the DJD stepped towards her and stroked her chin, wiping coolant from her face, "Come now, Lickety-Split, save your tears…"

At his touch and the use of her name, the femme glitched and crumpled to the floor. Behind and to his right, Vos hissed and clicked in the harmonious flow of the Primal Vernacular.

"Quite right." Tarn replied coolly, cocking his helm at the unconscious waitress, an amused glimmer in his optics, "I daresay she recognized us."


	13. Duck and Cover

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 12**

 **Duck and Cover**

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 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers, only any OCs I may in the future make and my plot. A hand of applause to enmused, my beta!**

 **Now, I know I left off on a pretty wicked cliffhanger last chapter, so without further ado, on with the chapter!**

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" _Come now, Lickety-Split, save your tears…" A tenor voice purred, long, large claws stroking coolant from her faceplates gently. Her wheeled pedes were shifting back and forth to keep her wavering balance, and the floor beneath her was slick and grainy with high-grade mixed with glass._

" _I daresay she recognized us."_

The little orange and beige femme onlined her optics and sat up groggily, stretching with a small moan of pleasure as soft, fuzzy blankets spilled off her shoulders into a heap around her. No way in Pit. Maccadam bought her a new berth.

Honestly, she couldn't believe that mech sometimes. He was all mysterious and secretive, but at the same time he was the kindest, most considerate mech a bot could know.

It was kinda weird for her to have dreamt about the DJD. But at the same time, it wasn't too off, since she'd been having nightmares ever since Nightracer came back to the bar. She stretched again, picking up a soft blanket and snuggling her face into it with a purr of pleasure.

Knock, knock, knock.

Knock, knock.

Lickety-Split frowned minutely, then grinned brightly and twirled out the amazing berth, extending her wheels and spinning around like the dancers in the holovids for a moment before tapping the button to open the door for her guest. At the exact moment that she opened the door, she realized all too abruptly that she had no idea where she was.

At that exact moment, she also found herself face to face with the biggest turbo-fox she'd ever seen, leaning back on its haunches and snarling and growling at her, acid saliva dripping from its jowls as it howled. She fell back on her aft, scooting away from the hulking creature in terror, squeaking in fright as it lunged on its chain, snapping its razor sharp teeth in displeasure at its escaped prey.

The creature's thick metal plating was ruffled up and its optics shone a deep, almost black shade of red, like burning embers in a magma flow, every inch of its stance screaming for the next kill as it impatiently scratched at the floor, leaving deep marks in the smooth surface. The turbo-fox's paws alone were as big as her helm, equipped with claws sharp enough to tear through her like silver jelly.

"Count yourself lucky. He likes you."

She looked up at the red-armored mech, not taking her wide, scared optics off of the fearsome, hungrily salivating creature, "What makes ya say that?"

Kaon smiled at her, shrugging the electrical coils on his shoulders. A shiver ran through her at the utter void of where his optics ought to have been. She judged bots by what she could see in their optics, and this one literally had nothing there. "Most bots are wailing as he gnaws on their sparks by now."

He clapped his hands together twice and the giant turbo-fox stopped pulling against its chain, growling once more at her before sitting down beside its master. "Anyhow, Tarn's ready to see you."

Lickety-Split nodded cautiously, standing up and shaking herself as though to force her tightly clenched armor to relax. It didn't budge. She gave the turbo-fox a wary glance, but it just snarled at her contemptuously, licking its chops and flashing its dagger-like teeth. She had a feeling the pet wanted to have her for morning fuel.

She stepped through the door and went forward as the mech gestured her on, shivering in discomfort as the mech touched her shoulder to guide her in the appropriate direction, his touch sending a zap of static through her spinal struts. If that was just an ordinary touch, she shuddered to think what it would feel like when he actually channelled his power.

Captive and captor traversed the corridors of the Peaceful Tyranny, Kaon's pedefalls echoing loudly over the near silent sound of her graceful skating along and the pet's light padding. She clenched her jaw tightly as they went along, her trepidation growing with every step they got closer to whatever cruel fate awaited her.

She stepped into the immense hall that Kaon had led her to, squeaking in surprise as the door swished open before she could even knock. Every little sound had her on edge, jumping out of her armor at the slightest bit of motion or noise.

"Hello, Lickety-Split." A silky voice greeted lazily, "Please, take a seat."

He was reclining comfortably in a tall chair at the far end of the round, donut-shaped black table. There were six silver seats around the table, rimmed with intricate black filigree. Vos sat stiffly straight to Tarn's left, then Tesarus, who had his feet up on the table while he poked at the blades in his chest, then Helex with both pairs of arms crossed over his chest and waist, then the two empty seats to Tarn's right.

Her spark stopped and her engine hitched faintly when she noticed which seat the purple tank had just indicated. With trembling pedes, the little waitress scooted up to the chair to Tarn's direct right. Kaon sat down beside her, leaning his elbows on the table casually.

Because while sitting beside the most renowned murderer in the galaxy was suicidal, not doing as he asked was a death sentence. As if her very presence here wasn't a death sentence in and of itself. She was terrified and confused and terrified even more as a result. A cozy breakfast with Death was not exactly what she would have expected from the DJD.

"Helex, would you be so kind as to get the morning fuel?" Tarn requested politely.

In spite of the seeming normalcy, the air was heavy with her fear, and their varying levels of boredom, impatience, and anticipation as the four-handed warrior set cubes of Energon before each of them, not even making two trips, since he could just store what he couldn't hold in his inactive smelting chamber.

The beige and orange femme jumped considerably when the light purple giant set down her cube in front of her. Across from her, Tesarus chuckled at her, the grin behind the red 'x' over his face sending a chill through her. She clamped her armor down even tighter.

Tarn sipped at his fuel, inspecting his latest acquisition closely, noting how she sat there, trembling in her armor, glancing at each of them fearfully as she kept a death grip on her hands trying to make them stop shaking. "Relax, femme, drink your fuel in peace. As I said earlier, we only wish to talk."

Beside him, Vos snickered something in the language of the ancients. Lickety-Split was pretty sure it had something to do with her and screaming. She'd taken a crash-course in linguistics before the War broke out. Never really thought about it since then though.

She clutched her cube of Energon so hard she knew it would shatter with just a tiny bit more pressure, but she took a quick gulp of it just to make the mech happy. Or at least keep him from killing her over spilt fuel.

"So…" Tarn drawled, leaning forward and bridging his servos as he continued to regard her closely. "Nightracer stopped by your bar about a quartex ago, yes?"

Lickety-Split shifted her tight grip on her cube. "I-I just serve the drinks, sir, I wouldn't know."

The badge-faced mech's piercing scarlet optics narrowed minutely, but he cleared his vents patiently and plunged a hand into his subspace, sliding a datapad over the short distance between them. "This is an image of the femme. You could say she's a friend of mine, I would like to… reconnect."

"Of course." She said, her wavery voice regaining a touch of its usual brightness as she picked up the datapad and looked at the image carefully. She must be completely glitched, trying to put on her show face in this sort of a situation.

It was a high quality image of a lithe-framed sniper crouched in a battle stance, wielding two golden rifles aimed in two different directions. Large red optics shone with a fierce thrill amidst the fight and she wore a silver mask over her faceplates. The femme's helm, upper arms, hands, midriff, and thighs were a crystalline teal, and the rest of her charcoal armor was marked with light blue accent panelling.

There was no mistaking that the femme in the image was any other than Nightracer.

She had no reason to not sell her out. After all, she had nothing to gain from helping the fugitive and everything to lose from lying to the DJD. Her tanks churned as the memory of having to sweep up the life-En soaked metal strips of that poor mech the last time she'd seen the DJD.

If there was any way she, just an ordinary waitress from Maccadam's Old Oil House, could keep them from doing or worse to another bot, she would. Lickety-Split wasn't sure she could live with herself if she sold the other femme out like that.

"Hmm." The orange femme hummed thoughtfully, shaking her helm solemnly. "M-Maccadam banned her from the bar a half-vorn ago. She… she hasn't been 'round since."

Directly across the table from her, Tesarus quit messing with his blade-filled chest to look up at her with a grin of amused respect. He laughed, a loud, raucous laugh that reminded her of every other mech in the bar. Only crueller. "Lying to us? Little femme's got gears, Tarn."

"Or she's just stupid." Helex huffed with a little smirk, his small pair of arms having a thumb war on the table, the larger pair locked behind his helm.

Kaon just shrugged from where he sat beside her, the pet snuggled up against his pedes, resting its helm in his lap. The optic-less mech stroked absently at the turbo-fox's helm. "Just give the word."

Vos gave a series of clacks and static bursts that she had no hope of ever translating, his masked face giving her no visual tell of what he'd just said, but it made Tarn sit up straighter, his optics gaining a harder value behind their dark light. "Very well, Lickety-Split. Let it never be said that Tarn gave no choice. We really do need to know what our dear Nightracer has been up to. Kaon, be my guest."

The little waitress shrieked, sliding under the table before the now-sparking mech could grab her. His abysmal lack of optics somehow seemed to deepen as the anticipatory grin he bore widened.

She cartwheeled over the other side of the circular table, kicking off the red x of Tesarus' face for leverage, only to screech as the massive tan mech shot up an extending hook from his shoulders, snatching her ankle as she passed him. He stood up, dangling her upside down by her ankle, grabbing her other wildly kicking foot with his other hook after she managed to wheel him in the face a couple more times, leaving rubber streaks wherever she struck.

Her struggling just seemed to please the mech, who chuckled as she continued to squirm, attempting to claw her way free. She even tried biting the hook around one of her ankles, then yelled as loud as she could, all the worst insults she could think of – which mounted up to a rather impressive collection – when the blades in his chest cavity began whirling in a deadly grind of gleaming edges and points. Her spark pounded so hard in its chamber, Lickety-Split was certain it would burst if she were any more scared, but the terror only fuelled her desperate struggling.

Tesarus shook her up and down a couple times, then turned her upright when she stopped wailing.

Tarn slowly rose from where he'd simply sat in his high chair and continued sipping at the last of his morning fuel during her futile attempt at escape. He shook his helm at her, clicking his glossa like a disappointed carrier. "Now, now, Lickety-Split… You really shouldn't have done that."

 **Unknown Location. Altihex.**

Hook marked down the last item in the medical storage, then set it carefully in its place with a contented smile behind his mask. Now this was an inventory he could get used to. There were even half a dozen SPC's in storage. No one carried spark preservation containers anymore.

The constructicon medic stepped out of the closet, bringing a polishing cloth from his subspace and working it over some nicks in one of the three main berths. Pedefalls approaching rapidly alerted him to Blurr's coming, but he didn't look up as the speedster popped his helm around the door cautiously, sporting a gash through his knee joint and scuffs all over his armor.

"What happened to you?" He queried for consideration's sake if nothing else. Still he merely glanced up, assessed the mech, then went back to work buffing the berth.

" _Oh, nothing much, y'know scouting the ruins in search of a thingimajiggy to work some on the engine. Maybe you could help out with it some time?"_ Blurr spewed in his usual fashion, making the medic's processors kick up a notch just to understand him. _"Anyhow, tripped on a doohickey and just my luck landed on some dead mech's rusty old sword they left lying around to nearly amputate every poor fellow who happened to be speeding past. Think you can help?"_

The bright green mech's engine hummed, and he shrugged disinterestedly. "Fixing you wasn't part of the deal. I'm here to take care of the kid."

Light blue chest-plates sagged for a klick as he thought about the femme, then puffed up with pride, _"Well, I just so happen to be the bot in charge of taking care of 'the kid' and that makes my well-being important to the continuation of hers."_

Hook laughed outright at the typical, Autobot arrogance, "Ha! I'll believe that when I see it. Autobot, last I checked, you're outnumbered and that means you ain't in charge of _anything_ here."

Blurr just glared at him for a moment before sitting down hard on the med-berth. His face flicked through varying expressions of guilt, anger, fondness, and indignation almost too quickly for the medic to track. At last he just shrugged, _"Can you patch this up or not?"_

"Oh, I can, definitely." He replied, moving to the next berth over and methodically polishing its surface as well, leaving the mech to fume. Conversationally, he went on, "I don't know why the femme's stuck around, honestly. From what I've heard, you haven't exactly been the most supportive of friends."

" _I never set out to be 'friends'. I rescued her off the streets from what I thought was just another gang and gave her fuel. When I learned she was a Con, I kept her prisoner on the grounds that I let her go when she tell me who was after her and what she'd done. I wasn't exactly expecting to get involved with the DJD!"_ Blurr crossed his arms, his servos a blur of motion as he drummed them on his elbows.

" _So then if I put her back on the streets, I'd be indirectly responsible for when the half-starved, mostly broken femme finally got what she's in for, which as an Autobot with morals and decency of spark unlike everybot else she went to, I set up this deal to get you to fix her, and I end up getting her broken more by Overlord."_

Hook listened with the occasional hum or engine rumble as he worked on the mech's gashed knee joint. He was deep enough in his rant at this point that the blue racer didn't even notice that the medic had decided to go ahead and fix him while he spilled his spark on the matter.

" _And then, with the femme – who I promised that I'd get back into full functionality – laying in my guardian's berth half-dead, the field medic saving her life tells me that it doesn't matter that I promised her I wouldn't send her away until she's fixed because she can't_ _ **be**_ _fixed!"_ The speedster sighed heavily. _"She's too broken."_

The green and purple medic looked his patient in the optics after finishing the last weld on his knee, his outward expression unreadable behind mask and visor. His spark twinged sharply as memories of his old team ran through his unwilling processors. He shrugged, "Aren't we all though?"

He took in a deep vent and after a couple quiet, thoughtful klicks, the constructicon clapped his hands together in finality, slipping the welder, mesh, and magnetic styluses back into his subspace. He shook his helm faintly as though it would make the memories go back to the dark corner of his mind where he'd been pushing them since the Last Battle of the Tagan Heights.

"She won't need another check-up for another couple of orns." He slammed his first aid kit into his subspace as well, "I'll be back around then. I need a drink."

 **Two Orns Later.**

Her battle protocols were running and her twin golden sniper rifles were grasped casually, yet firmly, in her blue hands, her sharp claws tapping impatiently on the triggers as she waited for the targets to walk right beneath the red laser-point of her sights. Her unusually large red optics were tinged white at the edges.

She instinctively perched one rifle on her shoulder, feigning mere boredom before blindly firing on the sniper she sensed preparing to shoot her from five simulated rooftops behind her. The enemy sniper's shocked shriek as he fell from his high perch awarded her lazy shot. In the alleys far, far below her, her original half-dozen targets, no more than figures to even her hyper-zoomed vision stepped into sight, tagged with the signal the special ops team had promised her.

Nightracer's masked lips curled up in a smirk she was neither aware of, nor felt, as she took proper aim in astroseconds and gently compressed her triggers repeatedly, her specially trained, programmed, and experienced systems automatically compensating for the dual recoil of the high-powered weapons. All six of the team were offlined before the first had even fallen to the ground.

The teal, blue, and charcoal Decepticon stroked the trigger of her rifle appreciatively, her processors locked in the battle and overriding any negative thoughts she might have, filling her with the pre-programmed thrill and passion for her work. The sniper grinned behind her raised, mint-colored battle mask as she rose and darted across the roof, leaping over to the next and the next, taking out three stray enemies as she went.

Leaping from roof to roof, Nightracer continued until she was in sniping range of the enemy front-lines before crouching down in a relatively shielded position to begin the real work. Ten targets in a breem was by no means shabby work, but her skills would be put to much better use where she was now, about 350 *hics away, for good measure.

 _(*One hic = One kilometer = Roughly half a mile)_

Her rifles had an approximate effective range of 400 hics, but under ideal circumstances she knew she could push that nearly fifty hics farther and still terminate her target, albeit not to her level of satisfaction.

She wondered for a brief moment if her predecessor had been a better shot than she was. Such questioning musings were rapidly quenched however by her whirling tactical and battle processors, which could not afford the processing power to menial doubts.

Faceless figures fell beneath her sights in droves, the mounds of their corpses oddly absent as the targets merely shattered at her shots. The focused Decepticon sniper's wildly gleaming optics narrowed minutely in a moment of confusion before that too was discarded in favor of allowing herself the satisfaction of fulfilling her purpose.

A flash of bright blue tore past in the corner of her optics, bringing the femme to high-alert as she searched for the source of the motion, her ruby gaze poring over her surroundings as her already muted systems stilled completely for optimum stealth.

Nightracer's helm snapped to the side suddenly, her optics locking onto the source of the blue now several roofs away with a grim smirk. Lining up the target in her sights, she searched swiftly and habitually for the Autobot insignia that was a death sentence in her domain. She owned the battlefield; she always did.

Leveling the red laser pinpoint on his spark with a speed attesting to vorns of practice, the sniper cocked her helm slightly as the mech looked down at the laser beam on his chest before staring up at her in shock, fear, and what was - if she was not mistaken - betrayal. Flicking an optic ridge in nonchalance, the femme squeezed the left trigger, simultaneously shooting another target in the distance with her other rifle balanced on her left elbow.

One target crumpled in the edge of her vision and turned to dust, the other directly in front of her... was no longer where he had been. Nightracer scowled. She never missed. So what just happened?

She leaned over the edge of the building and looked down, springing back a step in surprise at what greeted her optics. The blue mech that by all rights ought to have been dead was running up the wall of the building she was perched on. Running vertically, straight up the wall in a blue streak.

That wasn't even physically possible...

As the blue mech seemed to materialize in front of her, the sniper instinctually fired, not even processing the action until the blue mech collapsed in front of her with a cry of pain. The cityscape and battle around her all at once shattered into a million tiny shards of light before those too melted into nothingness.

Nightracer's white-tinged optics widened in troubled astonishment, the white in her vision receding gradually as her tactical and battle computers relinquished their control slightly when the battlefield faded, shifting the focus of her processing power away from the disintegrated battlefield.

Autobot...

She'd shot him and he was still alive. She'd missed. Fractionally. She never missed. Shei frowned down at the blue mech leaking life-En from his chest, just barely above his spark chamber.

"Blurr?"

"You... are a-a really good shot, for a Decepticon." The mech whispered with a laugh that was cut off by a wracking cough that ended in him spitting up a mouthful of life-En beside him where he lay propped up on one arm. Nightracer's brow furrowed at the distinctly non-hyperspeed sentence.

The femme flung her guns into subspace and knelt down beside him hurriedly, examining her handiwork closely. It was a clean shot and she'd only slightly depressed the trigger due to the distance, so the bullet didn't go all the way through. It had also - narrowly - missed his spark and vital internals, meaning the shot was non-lethal and not too serious if taken care of quickly.

"And you are really lucky, for an Autobot." She replied quietly, still trying to figure out how and why she'd missed. Her programming never let her miss, whether she wanted to or not. There was no margin for error, she had prior experience with speedsters, and she wasn't critically injured. "I almost killed you. I never miss, and you're still alive. Can you walk to the med-bay?"

Her spark cringed within her as the full reality of what she'd just done set in completely. This was the first bot to care what happened to her in a long time. She'd almost killed her only friend on this rusted scrap heap they called a homeworld. He'd risked everything to help her, for no reason at all, and she shot him.

She'd almost killed him.

 _"Sure, I can walk to med-bay."_ Shoving himself up to his pedes, he gave her a shaky thumbs up, _"Faster than you can any day, hole in my chest and everythi-"_

Blurr's weak bragging was cut short by a harsh coughing fit that had the already-wobbly mech over-balancing. She stepped in just in time to catch the wiry, slightly taller mech before he ended up on his face-plates. Once he was finished hacking up life-En and internal fluids, the mech didn't protest when she slipped his arm over her shoulders to better support him as he leaned heavily on her.

 _"Or maybe..._ Maybe not..." He conceded wearily.

By the time they had trudged to the med-bay as quickly as Blurr could manage, Nightracer was practically carrying the blue racer. Thankfully his choice of careers made his frame surprisingly lightweight: better for speed and agility. Once she'd helped the mech onto the medical berth, she froze for a moment before flinging open cupboards and drawers in search of a basic first aid kit.

Granted, this was not a basic first aid sort of injury, but she had no medical experience. At all. Not even the slightest bit of experience. She didn't even have the anatomical knowledge the average grunt gained purely from tearing mechs apart.

Of course this would happen while Hook was out doing whatever he was doing.

She laid out the first aid kit beside the mech as soon as she'd located it, only for the femme to stand, frozen stiff, alternating her blank stare from the kit to the wound with growing panic. She couldn't do this. She was a killer, not a healer, as evidenced by the fact that the one bot she was beginning for some unknown reason beginning to trust and call a friend was now leaking out with one of her bullets in him.

"I can't _fix_ you! I'm a sniper! I kill people, I can't fix them!" She exclaimed finally, the fist of panic wrapping its tendrils around her, clouding her mind along with the crushing guilt of nearly murdering the mech who'd saved her life about a dozen times already in less than a quartex, "This is Hook's job, and… There's life-En everywhere... I don't what to do! I can't fix-"

A hand locked around her wrist, halting her wild gesticulating. _"Femme, shut up and calm down, freaking out isn't going to help anything, I'm not dying - it's not much more than a mesh wound, we just need to stop the leaking - and even if I were dying you shouldn't even care cause you're a Con and I'm a Bot – we've already gone over that – and I've already proven to you that I can't be trusted."_

Nightracer blinked at the flat rebuke, glancing at the injury skeptically before averting her gaze. "That doesn't mean I wanted to kill you! We need Hook! Where did he go?"

" _I don't know! I'm not his carrier, and I didn't even want him to stay, so I honestly don't care! -_ Look, I'll talk you through it." Blurr bit out, seeming to be annoyed with her lack of composure. He was obviously making a distinct effort to talk slow enough for her stunned processors to accept. "Okay?"

She still didn't get why he went through all the bother for her. Maybe for the same reason she wanted to tear her processors apart until she could actually control her battle protocols? Because friends did what they could for each other, even when it hurt.

At her slow, wide-opticed nod, the blue mech started calmly, his normal rambling cut short, "First you're going to have to remove my chest armor so you can clamp the severed Energon lines."

She clamped down the urge to complain about having to dip her hands in that much life-En in order to repair him. Like he said, she didn't even hardly know the mech, and besides that he was the enemy. And so far he was just like every bot else, who saw her as a cheap copy of a bygone legend. Why should she care?

Her spark whirled at the thought of how close she'd come to killing him, still hung up on that fact, but unable to express anything beyond the fear that she felt. She owed him. She owed it to him to try. When she'd first met him, he told her that he didn't think she was a monster. She was anything but convinced of that, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to try.

"I don't care if you live or die." She muttered informatively, trying futilely to convince herself as much as him, gingerly removing the armor as instructed, "I just don't need any more lives on my hands."

 _I don't need any more life-En on my hands either,_ her processor reminded her stubbornly as more of the mech's life fluids spurted up onto her armor.

"Now use the micro-welder in the kit to seal the ruptured lines."

She frowned minutely, "Micro-welder? On life-En lines? Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

 _"No! I haven't got a clue what to do!"_ Blurr snapped incredulously, _"I'm a racer not a medic! But I was the only one of us not going into hysterics so I'm trying to sound confident so you do something so I don't leak out on the table while you whine about my life-En getting on your freshly paint-and-polished armor! None of this would have even been an issue if my unrestrained Decepticon prisoner-crewmate-thing hadn't decided to_ _ **shoot**_ _me when I tried to bring her_ _ **fuel**_ _!"_

"You think I don't realize that!?" Nightracer shook her helm, then held up her hands in placating surrender, her plating tightening against her frame in shame and fear. "I told you before; I can't be trusted."

The femme picked up a couple of small things that looked clamp-like and didn't have wires on them and hesitated for a moment before attaching an excessive number of them to all the severed power lines she could find. Hopefully his systems would pop up a helpful thing saying the Energon flow had been rerouted, rather than simply continuing as normal and bursting the clamped lines.

"That should make the leaking stop until we figure out how to actually fix it properly and replace some of the Energon you lost... Unless you haven't had a notice informing you of a power reroute." She bit her lower lip nervously, "In which case, you might end up bursting all the other Energon lines in your body and you'll be dead before either of us notices."

 _"So yay."_ Blurr added quietly.

She scowled, her lips quirking up a tiny bit. "Do you just say that whenever life decides to go to the scrapheap?"

He coughed hard before responding with a light shrug, his clear blue optics going dim for a moment before he, with a small amount of difficulty, drew two cubes of Energon from his subspace. Passing one to her, the mech winced apologetically as a quarter of the cube's contents sloshed out all down her front. _"Anyway, all things set aside: I brought lunch."_

The teal and gray femme couldn't help but grin at that, choosing to ignore the fuel mixed with life-En rolling down her chassis and into the crevices of her armor. "And, all things set aside: you ought to be dead..." She glanced into the cube of Energon shyly, "But I'm not averse to you, um, not being... dead and all..."

Blurr coughed again, but this time Nightracer was pretty certain it was mainly to fill the awkward heavy silence following that awkward statement. She went on casually, shrugging in a nonchalant manner, "I mean, what would I do if something were to happen to you? I only just figured out the Energon dispensers and _I_ sure as Pit don't know how to fly this rust-bucket."

The mech laughed, holding up his cube in a toast, _"To being not dead."_

"To not-dead." She echoed, taking an obligatory sip of the fuel and setting it aside with churning tanks, returning her attention to the mech's injury after he'd finished his fuel one slow sip at a time. There was no way she could refuel with the amount of inner fluids all over her. Now that it wasn't pouring said fluids everywhere, she could see that the mech had been right. It wasn't much more than a mesh-wound. At most, he'd be a bit uncomfortable for a few orns.

In fact, she could see the bullet embedded just servo-tip's depth in his protoform. Picking up a pair of extra-long forceps, Nightracer took in a deep vent, willing her tanks to stop insisting that she purge.

"Going to try to - Oh sweet Cybertron..." She whispered, reaching the forceps down towards the offending metal protrusion, biting her lip hard when she got too close to a severed wire, inciting a small flurry of no-doubt excruciating sparks, "Sorry-! Um, I'm going to... Primus help me not purge on his spark-casing... try and get this... out... without hurting you more than it is... oh that is disgusting, why does there have to be so much fluids?"

A moment later she hissed in frustration, watching helplessly as the mech beneath her shaky hands bit down a groan as he forced himself not to writhe in pain. Her armor clamping down and trembling, Nightracer's engine whined.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I got it, but my hands are shaking and I dropped it because I'm a Decepticon monster, not a medic and I shouldn't be doing this, because I'm the reason you're hurt to begin with and for all I know my hands will accidentally purposefully slip and snuff your spark or-"

 _"Nightracer, stop rambling, that's my job, and it doesn't suit you anyway. What do you mean you dropped it?"_

She leaned in a little closer, craning her neck to search his internals with a short whine of her engine. "Um… I mean I dropped the bullet and- and I can't find- Oh!"

The femme winced in sympathy, her cooling fans kicking on as her panic rose. "Um… This is probably going to really hurt a lot. I-I'll try to, uh, not kill you… Again, or I mean, more, oh…"

" _That'd be great."_ Blurr chuckled, brushing off the idea of his possibly imminent termination lightly.

She wasn't much encouraged by that, but she gripped the forceps tightly, trying to make her hands stop trembling. She cringed, her armor flattening against her frame even tighter as she apologized again, then moments later when she picked up the offending bullet. _Her_ bullet. That _she_ shot into him.

More apologies followed as she drew it from his frame with one optic squeezed shut at the rather unpleasant sound that came from his chest as she accidentally brushed his spark chamber with her smallest servo.

Nightracer dropped her own golden bullet into her hand, examining it critically, sighing in relief when she saw that it hadn't been one of her more violent ones. She had some that were filled and coated with acid, so that it would eat through the target and then burst in a spray of acid deep in their internals. Others were explosive, while yet others would shoot out spikes so as to be irremovable.

This was just a classic, which was the only reason she could even have taken care of this much. The knowledge didn't make the uncomfortable burning in her spark go away though. She could have killed him, easily. The innumerable dead she'd taken over the course of the war could attest to that.

But she didn't mean to. She didn't want to hurt him.

Blurr shifted slightly, trying to sit up, but giving up with a grimace. His voice held a bit of static, "Done?"

She shook her helm faintly, her frame still trembling uncontrollably. The sniper picked up a tiny welder that looked somewhat power-line-fixing like and tentatively put two ends of one of the clamped primary lines together. She flicked on the welder and touched it to the line for about half an astrosecond then jerked back, half-expecting the mech to spontaneously combust.

When he failed to scream in agony or start turning grey, the femme's engine whimpered and she inspected the line judgementally, comparing it to the non-severed ones. She put the welder to it for a fraction longer, rotating it under the tiny flame to seal it all the way around, then flicked the welder off again.

"That's one line… out of seven..." She scratched at a bit of dried life-En on her arm, her tanks twisting, "Um… I'm going to unclamp them, and uh, hopefully nothing bad will happen."

All things considered, the injury was minor. She had seen, felt, and inflicted damages far, far worse than this. That knowledge wasn't keeping her from freaking out about it though. She removed the clamps, praying to Primus that she wouldn't kill this mech.

He hissed sharply as the Energon flowed through the new weld, but it held and he didn't die, so she went ahead and did the rest of the lines with a minute amount of increased confidence. About half a groon later, Nightracer set aside the tools and smiled at him tentatively, then frowned in worry.

"I'm so sorry I shot you, I swear I didn't mean to, I just didn't see you and I was lost in the simulation and I almost killed you and I'm sorry." She took in and let out a massive vent, hoping the mech wouldn't hate her for this. She didn't have anywhere else to go and she was running out of the will to keep running. Nightracer sighed. "Does that feel better or worse?"

The speedster shifted experimentally, but quickly stopped with a pained little laugh. _"Well it definitely would have felt better minus the whole bullet-in-the-chest thing entirely, but I kinda deserved it for what I said before, which basically did the same thing to you only worse, cause it was pain of words, and this doesn't even really make us even. So I'm gonna say that it feels better."_

She smiled, now with a touch of self-depreciation, as she gently reclosed his chest-plates with a muted click when the clasps locked down. The sniper sat down on the edge of the berth, staring into her lap. "I… It's fine. I'm willing to call it even. You didn't say anything that wasn't true. That's why I was running. More than just the DJD, I run cause when I stop running, I have time to remember that I'm nothing more than a mistake. A lab experiment that didn't work out as planned. Just a ghost of a femme Shockwave murdered in the name of science a long time ago."

" _No."_ Blurr said quickly, laying a hand over hers, his expression showing that he was deep in thought. She glanced side-ways at him, _"I never should have said that, and you most definitely shouldn't ever, and you shouldn't let other people say that to you, because it isn't true. Race, you're not a mistake, and you're not broken until you believe that you are. You may not be the same bot that your spark once was, but that doesn't make the person you are now any less important, or of any less value than any bot else. The bots who judge you for it are the lesser persons, not you."_

She took in his words silently, her shred of a spark quivering in a confused sliver of scared hope that someone cared enough to so earnestly fight for her worth when not even she could bring herself to. She laughed suddenly as a flippant remark slid from her lips unchecked, "So, if I'm the greater person here, does that mean I can be captain?"

Dark blue optics widened a bit, a guilt and sadness burning behind them that made her regret her words. It also made the slice of hope in her spark brighten a bit at the proof that he truly was sorry for his stinging words.

The look in those optics wiped away the bitterness she held towards him faster than she'd ever thought possible. What he'd said about her couldn't be forgiven, yet here she was, willing to risk it anyway. It didn't make sense.

The look flashed by in less than a nanosecond, and he chuckled. _"Captain Nightracer? I think I can live with that."_


	14. Sing Me to the Well

**A Race Through the Night**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Sing Me to the Well**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't, haven't, and won't ever own the Transformers or the Transformers characters. I do however own my story and plot.**

 **Huge thanks to my sister-beta enmused, who is my most loyal fan!**

 **Before you all express your displeasure, I know, it feels like it's been vorns since I posted, but what can I say, RL is anything but cooperative. But, the good news is I'm still alive, and I'm still interested in this story, so don't run away! I'll try to keep my posts as regular as possible, but I'm not going to pretend I've got myself organized enough to give an estimate lol. Anywho, here's the next chapter, read, fav, follow, review, and most importantly, enjoy!**

 **Review Responses: _Cashagon:_ _Thank you so much for existing! You are literally the reason this chapter happened. So, gratitude *presents tray of cookies**raises glass of milk in a toast* Here's to continuing long-abandoned stories! And faithful fanfic-friends! And new chapters of angst and drama!_**

* * *

The darkness brushed through her consciousness softly caressing her weakly pulsing spark.

Cold permeated the atmosphere.

She shivered, biting back a sob. Somewhere in the room a liquid dripped continually, like the drip of a leaky faucet. The little waitress shivered again, her arms burning, yet nonetheless numb and lifeless. A harshly amused laughter, colder and darker than the icy void around her, the cruel enjoyment in his voice seeming to wrap around her like tangible tendrils, so tender, yet crushing at the same time.

"I don't know…" She whispered brokenly, her voice crackling with static as she repeated the same three words in a futile, desperate plea for the pain to stop.

Somewhere close beside her, the femme felt more than heard a deep engine purr as its owner crooned, "Oh, I believe you, dear."

Lickety-Split forced her optics open with a groan as Tarn circled her slowly, taking in the various damages his crew had inflicted. Her vision was fuzzy at the edges, and one side was laced over with cracks in her optic lens. The femme's helm hung limply against her shoulder as she dangled from her place chained to the ceiling.

She opened her mouth to speak, then shifted to relieve the weight on her arms, stretching to scrabble at the slick floor with her wheeled pedes, only to trigger a bout of harsh coughing. Weakened, with the burn of life-En in her mouth and down her leaking front, she vented heavily.

At last she croaked defiantly, "G-Go ahead and k-k-ksshhh-kill me then. What are you waiting f-for?"

"What's the fun in that?" Tesarus snorted, leaning against the wall with a little smirk on his x-ed over faceplates. Beside him, Vos snickered about something in the old Cybertronian tongue.

The purple DJD leader chuckled softly, "Come, Lickety-Split, you're a smart femme. You tell me: what am I waiting for?"

The waitress glanced down at her shredded, melted, battered, and broken frame. She could see faint lights glowing from some of her internal systems, lights that were never meant to be seen. She jerked hard away from the sharp jolt of electrical current shooting through her struts as Kaon laid a hand on her shoulder. Beneath her the feral, sparkeater turbofox lapped thirstily at her spilt life-En.

Instinctively, the femme snarled at the optic-less mech's agonizing touch, biting back a shriek as he sent a more powerful shock through her. When at last the fire coursing through her stopped, she cycled air through her systems raggedly.

Finally, Tarn seemed to decide she wasn't going to reply and shrugged lightly, "You see, Lickety-Split, you're still of use to us. If you can't lead us to her, you'll just have to lead _her_ to _us_."

"Ssshhhh-she won't come for me." Lickety-Split shivered convulsively, coughing up a bit more fluids. Her spark trembled at the words she spoke next, but she didn't much care. All she could feel was cold and pain, what did it matter if they killed her now? She was going to leak to death anyway. Killing her now would be a mercy. "You're a f-fool if you think they care what you do to me. I'm just the waitress."

"You underestimate your value." Kaon told her, the red and orange mech's tone as blank and unreadable as the void in his optics.

She watched as one by one the Decepticon Justice left her to hang and leak out in icy solitude, the echoes of their heavy pede-falls loud in her audials.

Once they were out of hearing range, the femme sobbed, allowing the mostly held-back tears to flow freely down her face.

They should have killed her. Primus, they should have let her spark drift off to the Well, a small peace to recompense the suffering they had put her through over the past two orns. How on Cybertron she had lived this long, she had no idea.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, Altihex, Unknown Location**

Hook redid the clasps on her abdominal armor and nodded to her, his visor gleaming bright red and reflective. "All done."

"So, the verdict? It's been two orns." The teal femme asked, clicking her armor back on and sitting up.

"I'm nowhere near ready to release you if that's what you're asking." The constructicon grunted, putting his tools all away in their proper places. It never ceased to amaze and please him just how much supplies he had full access to here. Fuel, supplies, space, this ship was a level of order, prosperity, and extravagance that just a few orns ago he would have sworn had been lost to Cybertron forever.

"Your repair systems are improving, but they're not even close to being able to handle the strain you'll put on them. And I'm a mech of my word, I ain't leaving till I'm satisfied you aren't just going to get yourself offed the minute I leave."

Nightracer rolled her optics at him, swinging off the berth and gulping down the nutrient-dosed med-grade Energon, making a disgusted face at it when she finished. "Well in that case, I'll just tell Blurr you aren't ever leaving then, because in case you've forgotten, getting offed is a simple fact of life for me."

The green and purple medic smirked slightly behind his mask, about to reply when suddenly both Decepticons went stiff, optics widening in fear.

His voice rang through the public Decepticon comm channel that neither bot had heard used in quartex. /Good orn, Nightracer./

The teal femme let out a terrified squeak, optics instantly scanning for a direction to bolt. The smooth voice laughed, /Oh, don't worry, we don't know where you're hiding this time, you've done quite the commendable job of it./

 _"Heya! Just got back from searching the scrap yard for that part we needed to get the engines working, and whaddya know I even managed to find one, plus that other thingy-bobber to go in the-"_ Blurr's rambling cut off and he froze in the doorway of the med-bay, a frown flashing over his faceplates as he took notice of their fear-filled expressions and Nightracer's trembling form. _"What's going on?"_

As Tarn went on over the comm line, Nightracer and Hook both ignored the speedster entirely, /However, you seem to be getting a little sloppy, worn out perhaps? Not to worry, though, our doors are always open to our dear friends. In fact, you might find we have a mutual friend aboard./

Nightracer trembled, her engine whining softly. Who had they found?

/Lickety-Split, dear, why don't you say hello to Nightracer?/

The femme's ruby optics widened. The waitress from Maccadam's. The DJD had somehow found out that she'd helped them. There was no way the tiny femme could have lasted long under the DJD's hand. She knew she never should have gone back to Maccadam's. Every time she did, someone died, and it was her fault.

Always her fault.

A harsh, frame-wracking cough filled the channel, then a frail, trembling snarl, /Go rust in the Pits./

She could practically see the mech shaking his helm in disapproval. /No manners at all. My proposal is simple, your spark for hers within the joor, no other conditions. I've sent you the location of our ship, Nightracer, do try not to be late. After all, it would be a shame if your little friend were to leak out before you arrive./

Her engine growled angrily, even as her armor clamped down tighter to her shaking protoform.

/Oh and you can tell your pet speedster to stay home, his time will come soon enough./

With that, the line cut off with a hiss of static, leaving the two Decepticons in stunned, terrified silence. Blurr was starting to fidget, his gaze flitting back and forth between the two of them, awaiting some sort of an explanation to the fear that was tangible in the air.

 _"'Race? What's going on? You both look like you just saw Unicron himself, what's the matter? Was there someone on the comms, do I have a scraplet on my back, what's the problem? Someone?"_

Nightracer glanced between the two bots, her expression stonily blank as she attempted to mask the terror in her spark. It would seem her running had come to an unexpected end. Half a vorn she'd managed to stay alive on the List. She ought to be proud, most didn't even last half an orn.

"Get the ship working, Blurr, then get as far away from Cybertron as you possibly can."

"You're not seriously just going to hand yourself in?" Hook asked incredulously, "The femme's as good as dead already."

Blurr's azure optics widened and he started vibrating with his unanswered questions, _"Wait, hand yourself in? To who, where, why? What's going on? Who's as good as dead?"_

"That was Tarn on the comms." Nightracer explained. "They took Lickety-Split. I'm going to get her back."

 _"Are you completely glitched?! If you think for one astrocsecond I'm gonna let you run off and commit suicide for no good reason at all, you're crazy. There's no way the DJD's actually going to honor their word and let her go if they offered your life for hers, they'll just slaughter you both when you get there and you won't be able to do anything to stop them!"_ Blurr picked her up by her shoulders as she tried to push past him, setting her down in the middle of the room faster than she could blink. _"You are not gonna go and off yourself."_

Nightracer jerked out of his grip with a growl that she hoped didn't sound as shaky to them as it did to her own audials. "You can't stop me. T-they never would have taken her if it weren't for me. She risked her spark to help me, and I'm a worse monster than they are if I don't _try_ to get her back."

The light blue speedster looked ready to object, but after locking optics with her for a moment, he crossed his arms and huffed, then zipped out of the room. Returning half a klick later, the mech nodded, _"Fine, let's go then, where are they keeping her? We'll go in and get her and bring you both back alive or die painful, torturous, and no doubt prolonged deaths together because that's what friends do."_

The young clone smiled a broken little smile. And with that broken little smile, a piece of her broken little spark seemed to shatter inside of her.

"I-I'm going alone."

Somehow knowing that the mech would rush forward to try to stop her, to persuade her otherwise, to make her change her mind, she reached up a servo in perfect time to press her servos to his lips, silencing the unintelligibly fast protests before they came. She shook her helm gently, looking into his optics, pleading for him to understand.

"I'm going alone." She repeated quietly, "And I'm turning myself in. Spark for a spark, her life for mine. A rescue i-is out of the question."

" _You aren't-"_

She steeled herself, her engine letting out a low growl. "As the previously declared captain of this vessel, I o-order you to stay here. I order you to live."

Not waiting to hear some form of further protest, the clone left the room, flinging the revolving door spinning behind her. She hugged herself tightly, stopping by storage to throw a med-kit in her subspace. Pulling out her golden rifles, the femme latched them on her waist for quicker access and ran. She needed to hurry; every astrosecond she wasted could bring Lickety-Split to her death.

Nightracer stepped out into the cold night air with a sigh. Or was it morning? The dark gloom over Cybertron never changed. The distant stars shone dimly amidst the thick pall of smoke, smoke from burned dreams, shattered sparks, and ashen hopes: the trademark of this dead world they still called home.

Her spark felt like a dead weight in her chest, her t-cog heavy. For the first time in almost a quartex, the sniper transformed into her sleek alt-mode, her stiff frame rattling with pain from the lack of use. Her joints flared sharply as they bent in ways they hadn't for far too long.

The femme didn't pause to admire her reflection, or to revel in the pleasure of being back in her vehicle mode again.

She had a deadline to meet. In far too literal a sense for comfort.

* * *

 **The Peaceful Tyranny**

 _Sing me to sleep, my lord,_

 _Sing my spark to sleep._

 _Feel my life-blood seeping out,_

 _Feel my essence drifting down_

 _To the Well_

 _Sing me to the Well…_

The femme snorted at the irony of her processors half-delusional thoughts, her static-filled vocalizers feebly humming along to the Orchestrations of Tarn song that she'd always been fond of. The lyrics suddenly made far too much sense in her mind, and in her pain-blurred processors it was downright hilarious.

She used to like the Orchestrations.

Now that she was living them, Lickety-Split found that much like everything to do with the mech, the soft, eerie melodies that would ease her to recharge held a much deadlier meaning.

Her arms and pedes were shredded almost beyond recognition. What little of her civilian-grade armor that remained was cold slag, melted out of shape and digging into her protoform. Tarn had restrained Vos from making her wear his face, but the mech had of course found other ways to join in causing her pain.

The bots of the Decepticon Justice Division were anything if not creative in their methods.

 _Ease this agony, my lord,_

 _Ease my pain away_

 _Wipe the coolant from my optics_

 _Wipe the screaming from my vocs_

 _With your song_

 _Sing me to the Well…_

The little beige and orange waitress continued humming the gentle, lullaby-like tune, her optics shuttered to the world, her tortured imagination thinking the drips of her own life fluids seemed to fit the beat quite perfectly. She wondered at her sanity, singing the compositions of the very mech responsible for the all-consuming agony searing through her numb frame.

Feeling had long since left her arms and the whole right side of her frame from helm to pede was icy and tingly with numb pain. She couldn't move that side of her face, and she hadn't tried to move any part of her frame for what felt like an eternity.

At her pedes, the spark-eater turbo-fox was curled up contentedly, it razor denta clamped down on her left foot, its bushy, layered tail wrapped around her pedes. The creature was in a light recharge now, and periodically in its sleep it would snarl and gnaw half-sparkedly on her ankle joint, which the fox had dislocated a while ago.

Her life-En and coolant was caked all over the creature's armor in a gruesome mess and it was laying in a large pool of her fluids, but it showed no indication of minding.

"Interesting choice of melody." The flat tone touched her audials.

Lickety-Split forced her optics open, cringing away with a startled whimper as she found herself staring straight into two perfect black holes. She vaguely registered the now gentle buzz of electricity in the air around her, sparking slightly as her EM field collided with his super-charged one.

"He will soon enough, femme."

She didn't even have the energy to respond in any way to the red and orange mech. She couldn't get herself to look away from those abysmal optics. It was as though she could feel her spark being drawn into their endless void as though the Pit itself lay behind them.

Kaon walked behind her casually, laying his hands on her shoulders and leaning in close so that his lips were directly beside her audial. The burn of electrical current coursing from his hands into her made her stubbornly pulsing spark flutter painfully in its chamber, but she knew he wasn't even trying yet.

"Your friend is on her way to rescue you as we speak." The mech sent a stronger jolt through her, tearing a scream from her convulsions. "She will be unsuccessful, but it's the thought that counts, is it not?"

The femme shrieked, feeling the blessed embrace of darkness wrap through her consciousness again.

 _Sing me to sleep, my lord,_

 _Sing my spark to the Well…_

* * *

Nightracer stood at the coordinates the leader of her execution band had supplied. The femme shivered, but not from the cold breeze blowing through her armor. Her forlorn figure was perfectly silhouetted in the dim moonlight as she looked around the scrapyard her journey had brought her to.

Above her loomed the massive, dark, thorny shape of their ship.

Fate had a strange sense of humor, and the universe was laughing along with it. Too bad her life was the joke. Maybe she was a killjoy, but she wasn't much amused.

Perhaps when she was one with the Allspark, she'd see the bright side.

Because there was absolutely no way she would survive this. Then again, that was the conclusion she'd come to, and reminded herself of every rotation since she killed Bludgeon on that cliff what felt like eons ago now. Yet here she stood beneath the Peaceful Tyranny, telling herself once again that there was no way she would survive this.

She was getting rather tired of telling herself that.

Nightracer cocked her helm at a heavy thud from behind her, startling her slightly, causing the sniper to whirl around. Instinctively the femme fired rifles she hadn't even realized she'd drawn.

The shadowed figure grunted lightly, then laughed. "Tarn said ya might do that if I came up behind ya."

The sand-colored colossus stepped into the light, reaching up with a hand to touch the chipped edge of the red 'x' over his face plate. Just above his spark, the mech's armor now sported a smallish dent. Other than that, her signature tactic of aiming for optics and spark had failed completely, causing him only aesthetic harm, possibly bruising protoform slightly.

"Predictable aim for a Nightracer model."

Her optics narrowed slightly in confusion at his wording. He spoke almost as though he had encountered her before. Or more accurately, another clone of the legend.

"Where is she?"

Tesarus merely grunted at her, apparently deeming that he'd spoken to her enough for the cycle. She shifted nervously, her armor tightly pressed to her frame. Nightracer fought for a klick with her own terror and fighting protocols, then put her rifles back on her hips.

A short while passed in silence before a loud howl pierced the cold air and before she could even react to the sound, her dorsal plates hit the hard ground, a heavy weight over her spark.

Acid dripped from the creature's jowls, hissing as it splashed on her armor, the massive thing standing over her frame, spitting and snarling into her face. It glanced up briefly at a quiet clap that she almost couldn't hear over the sounds of its growling engine, but the rabid turbo-fox leapt off of her to pad over to Kaon.

She sat up swiftly, swiping the creature's saliva from her face as she sprung to her pedes, watching the rest of the DJD approach with understandable fear and wariness in her large ruby optics. Her gaze locked onto Lickety-Split and her spark twinged with pain at the sight of the bubbly young waitress so harmed.

Her engine growled quietly in her frame, rumbling up through her only to be stopped in her chest, held back by her fear. "H-How can I be sure you w-won't…."

"Kill her now that you have been so kind as to come out of hiding?" Tarn queried, coming forward with the waitress cradled almost gently in his arms. So contrary to the knowledge that he was responsible for her injuries. "Why, I am offended that you should suggest such a thing."

Nightracer cringed as a harsh clicking and shrilling sound came from somewhere to Tarn's left, vaguely resembling some form of speech. The teal and charcoal femme peered into the dim light behind the leader of the DJD, trying to view the source of the noise. Her servos brushed subconsciously against her gun, lightly fingering the trigger.

"Oh, where are my manners? I do not believe you and Vos have had the pleasure of meeting yet." The badge-faced tank gestured another mech forward.

The lithe, slight framed mech moved as indicated, inclining his masked helm towards her politely, emitting more of the unintelligible speech. Tarn translated for him, "Vos says it will be a pleasure to… ah, make your acquaintance, Nightracer."

"We are mechs of our word: Lickety-Split will not be further harmed." The massive purple mech continued coolly as his team casually formed a circle around her. "I am assuming your fellow transgressors are nearby or on their way, so you needn't worry about our leaving her here. Come, Nightracer, we have much to discuss."

She raised her helm, a blank expression on her face, though her optics shone with a terrified defiance. In spite of the cold weight of doom in her spark, the femme followed her executioners to their ship with her helm held high. This way they had not won. This way she was doing something good in her death, not simply meeting her end in some alley, leaking out, crying for fear of being pursued.

She stepped toward the round panel beneath the ship where the group stopped, hesitating for a moment to cast her gaze about the ruins one last time, knowing fully well that once she set foot on that ship she would never see the dark of day again. In the state their world was in, she could hardly call it light.

In that moment of hesitation, the teal and charcoal sniper saw a glint of lime green dart between stacks of rubble, a sudden breeze sweeping past her faceplates.

 _No…_ She thought, a gleam of desperation in her optics, _They'll kill them, they can't be here, they're the only friends I have left…_

The sniper whispered a plea to Primus to preserve them. There was nothing she could do from here, with Helex's hand literally on her shoulder. She tried not to think about the uncomfortable warmth radiating behind her from the mech's smelter chassis. She especially tried not to think of the fact that when he transformed to use it properly, that smelter was hot enough to melt a point one percenter's armor.

Lickety-Split's limp frame seemed to disappear into thin air from where Tarn had set ever so deceitfully gently on the ground, being so generous to have placed a pillow from his subspace beneath her dented helm.

Helex's massive hand on her shoulder tightened its grip, one of his smaller arms wrapping around her waist and holding her firmly enough that she heard her armor groan against the pressure, his other three hands now drawing weapons.

He looked down at the trembling femme pinned to his scalding hot chassis. "Cozy?"

Nightracer hissed at him in reply, struggling futilely against his grasp. Blurr appeared directly in front of her, tugged at her hand for a moment, then squealed like a sparkling and ran as soon as Helex growled. The purple and tan living furnace chuckled at the less than dignified retreat of the Autobot speedster.

Nevertheless, the knowledge of a rescue attempt being underway sparked a new hope in the femme and she begun scratching at the tan appendage pinning her to the fire. It didn't take long for her to realize that it was a futile effort. She shook the metal shavings from her claws and snarled, slamming her heel into his side out of sheer, frustrated spite.

The action irritated the mech, making him cuff her upside the helm with the butt of his blaster with his other small hand, then slap her again with one of the larger main hands. She took advantage of his blows instantly, feigning unconsciousness, letting her frame go limp in his grip, while surreptitiously reaching her hand towards her waist, where one of her rifles was just barely free from the mech's hold.

Her spark pulsed rapidly in its chamber and the clone hoped with all her might that Helex wouldn't feel its terrified, clearly conscious, throbbing.

With her optics offline, she couldn't see what was going on, and her sensors seemed to be being jammed by some sort of signal, or perhaps Kaon's mere presence charged the air enough to fill all her readings with a haze of static. The DJD mechs were shouting at each other and their targets alike, and she could hear Vos cackling like a madmech.

Tarn alone was silent.

A scream rent the air, this time of pain rather than terror. It took all of her will to keep her optics offlined. She didn't even dare to send out a comm. A rush of wind blew past her, rattling her limp armor. It didn't feel as though Helex had moved at all, he seemed to simply be standing by the ship, firing lazily from a distance to ensure that the speedster didn't take her.

Even the DJD knew not to underestimate speedsters. What they lacked in strength and durability, they more than made up for with enhanced processors and raw, unbridled speed.

Life-En dripped onto her dangling helm, startling the charcoal sniper, nearly making her lose hold of her newly acquired rifle. He'd actually hurt the mech. Blurr had actually _injured_ one of the Justice. In spite of her fear, the femme grinned behind her mask, which she'd elected to keep raised to hide her fear from them.

They could be hurt.

She expanded her EM field, knowing Helex didn't even consider her the slightest risk. Murder radiated from the mech, enraged by Blurr's persistent passing jabs as he raced around them in a blue blur.

Nightracer wrapped her servo around the cool metal of her gold rifle, securing her grip around the trigger and steeling herself for an action that could very well get her killed. Not that she wasn't going to die either way.

Like she'd thought, when she drew herself upright, her captor paid no heed to her.

She blasted the mech's neck, watching in awe as the bullet embedded itself in one of the weakest points of armor in a bot's frame, piercing through, but not reaching any vital lines. A tiny rivulet of life-En rolled from the hole and no more.

"Hey! Glitch-face!"

Her taunts and shot drew the mech's furious gaze down to her and he opened his mouth to roar some sort of insult, but she didn't give him the chance, firing an incendiary shot into his mouth as soon as it opened.

An ordinary mech would've found his helm in a million pieces, but Helex merely howled, dropping the femme in his arms like hot coals and roaring, for a brief moment seeming like one of the Predacons of legend, breathing fire and fury and destruction.

The gray sniper didn't hesitate, running for her life without so much as a glance behind her. Maybe she was a coward, but she'd rather be that than dead. Her run for freedom was cut short by a burst of harsh clicking and static, a dark frame wrapping around her and knocking her to the ground with a muted cry. The mech clambered over her and let out another string of the strange language that he spoke, rolling her over onto her back. She watched in horror as he began to remove his faceplate, revealing the inside of it lined with corkscrews, needles, blades, and an assortment of drills.

Vos gave her a feral grin, leaning closer to her, brandishing the lethal mask.

She fought, squirming and kicking as much as she could, but the mech didn't budge, his weight pinning her pedes to the ground and her arms turned under her frame at a painful angle. The femme cried out in fear as he brought the faceplate close enough that she could hear the whirring of its mechanisms, feel the vibrations through the air, see the life-En and rust of the last victim still embedded in the tiny crevices.

 _Some legend you are._ A cruel, unafraid and unaffected part of her mind scoffed, _You've lasted what, two klicks? Even the Autobot and the merc are better than you. If it had been one of them, you wouldn't have come, cause you're a coward._

"That's not true!" Nightracer screamed, throwing her frame to the side with all her might, biting back a second scream as the action tore her arm out of alignment. Vos stumbled for a split second, long enough for her to land a sharp kick to his unprotected face before running again.

This time the femme transformed, speeding off in her alt-mode amid heavy fire from the DJD. She careened around an eruption from a missile launched her way from Tesarus.

A niggling feeling of unease brushed her spark as Blurr appeared at her side, jogging at what appeared to be a leisurely pace alongside her speeding alt-mode. He seemed to be favouring one pede, but he was moving too quickly for her to see why.

 **/Hook's a couple hics off, in a safe location out of their sensor range with the waitress. We'll rendezvous with them, then head home./** Her unease grew as the Autobot went on flippantly, **/Told you it'd all work out, I mean really, all this fuss is over these guys? I've been in battles with Megatron and we've gone up against Overlord, these guys are small fry in comparison. Pit, I think we could probably have hung around a little longer!/**

She shuddered at the mech's foolishness. Such thinking would get them all killed.

 **/They let us go, Blurr./** Nightracer's engine rumbled, then groaned in objection to the strain she was putting on it so soon after being repaired. She pushed herself harder anyway, wanting as much distance between her and the Decepticon Justice Division as possible. **/Don't you think otherwise for even and astrosecond. They let us go. I don't know why, or for what purpose, but they let us go./**

* * *

 **The Peaceful Tyranny**

Tarn looked out over the bleak landscape and gave a little sigh for what Cybertron had become. The Decepticons had not yet won, but he knew that they would. All in good time.

He glanced over at Vos' hissing and clacking voice, cocking his helm minutely. "It does seem unusual letting them go, does it not?"

"We've been tracking her for quartex, and she walks into our hands and you let her go." Kaon stated, his empty optics somehow bearing a sense of displeasure in their void. "Why?"

Helex grunted in agreement, "She came right to us."

The leader of the Division smirked behind his mask, shaking his helm at his comrades. His comrades, his troops, his weapons. He stepped away from the small gathering they had made around him, clasping his servos behind his back and gazing thoughtfully in the direction they had fled. The shadows seemed to caress his frame with their cool touch, drawing him forward, begging him to bathe them in the life-En of the traitors and Autobots.

Traitors of their people, of their cause.

"Don't you see?" It was so very clear to him. Perhaps only he was enlightened enough to see it. The others remained too thoroughly steeped in the present, in the physical. No, that was not enough. To let the traitors by with mere agony was not enough. "What is the point of harming, maiming, and slaying, if they do not break?"

He could feel that he had their full attention. Good, very good. They all needed a lesson in Justice from time to time. Some lessons easier learned than others.

"She came to us willingly. She has lost all hope, so that to kill her would be a release."

"The other Nightracer models were stronger than this one." Tesarus grumbled, prodding absently at a little bit of blue metal damp with life-En caught in his abdominal blades. "This one's weak, scared, insecure."

"Every spark has its facets." Kaon's cool tone replied, succinct as ever.

Tarn hummed softly in acknowledgement of their observations. "You see mechs, *if you want to _break_ someone – mentally, physically, emotionally – wait until they're happy. Let them live and love and thrive. Once they recognize the value of a life well-lived…*"

Behind the insignia he wore as a mask, the mech smiled appreciatively, recalling the expressions of the bots he had so broken, "* _That_ 's when you move in for the kill. Because you can't take anything from someone who has nothing to lose*."

* * *

 _ ***Note* - this is a quote of Tarn, from the Tfwiki page, from "The Sun in Flight" teaser.**_

 _ **Also, I have a quick question for all you lovely people, just to make sure my readers are all in agreement, or at least mostly all in agreement:**_ **Should this story's rating be bumped up to M for violence?** _**Cause the DJD**_ **is _a major part of this story and will continue to be, and if you know anything about the DJD, violence is pretty much their forte and passion. And also anyone associated with the DJD is likely the same, as we saw with Overlord a couple chapters back._**

 ** _Please do give your opinions on this!_**


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